APPLETONS'  POPULAR  LIBRARY 

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PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS— THE  FAT  CONTRIBU 
TOR—TRAVELS  IN  LONDON. 


BOOKS   BY    THACKERAY. 


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PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS, 


THE    PAT    CONTBIBUTOB, 


AND 


TRAVELS  IN  LONDON. 


BY 


W.  M.  THACKERAY, 

AUTHOR   OF    *  VANITY   FAIR,"    "  MR.  BROWN  8    LETTERS   TO    A    YOUNG 
MAN   ABOUT  TOWN,"    ETC. 


NEW-YORK : 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY. 
1853. 


PS 


CONTENTS. 


PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS,  ...  7 

George  De  Bamwell,  ...  10 

Phil.  Fogarty,  ....  32 

Barbazure,  ....  56 

Lords  and  Liveries,  .  .  .  .  72 

Codlingsby,  ....  88 

THE  FAT  CONTRIBUTOR,  .  .  .  .  .111 

Brighton,  .  .  .  .  113 

Meditations  over  Brighton,  .  .  .  .117 

A  Brighton  Night  Entertainment,  .  122 

Brighton  in  1847,  .  .  .  .  .129 

Travelling  Notes,  ...  141 

Punch  in  the  East,  .  .  .  .  .158 

TRAVELS  IN  LONDON,  .  .  .  ,  187 

The  Curate's  Walk,  .  .  .  .  .189 

A  Dinner  in  the  City,  .  .  .  204 

A  Club  in  an  Uproar,  .  .  .  .225 

Waiting  at  the  Station,  .  .  .  .238 

A  Night's  Pleasure,  ...  242 

GOING  TO  SEE  A  MAN  HANGED,     ....     279 


PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 


PUNCH'S   PRIZE   NOVELISTS, 


PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS — so  called  because  a 
TWENTY  THOUSAND  GUINEA  PRIZE  is  to  be  awarded 
to  the  successful  candidate — will  embrace  works  by 
some  of  the  most  celebrated  authors  this  country 
boasts  of. 

Their  tales  will  appear  in  succession,  and  pretty 
continuously,  in  the  pages  of  this  Miscellany. 

The  publication  will  probably  occupy  about  five- 
and-thirty  years,  or  more  or  less,  according  to  the  re 
ception  with  which  the  novels  meet  from  our  enlight 
ened  patrons — the  generous  British  people. 

All  novels  cannot  be  given  entire,  as  a  century 
would  scarcely  suffice,  so  numerous  are  our  authors, 
so  prolific  and  so  eager  has  been  the  rush  with  stories, 
when  our  (confidential)  announcement  was  sent  into 
the  literary  world.  But  fair  specimens  of  the  authors' 
talents  will  be  laid  before  the  public,  illustrated  in 

our  usual  style  of  gorgeous  splendour. 
1* 


10 

The  first  prize  will  be  20,000  guineas,  viz.,  a  lot 
tery  ticket  to  that  amount,  entitling  the  holder  to  the 
above  sum  or  a  palace  at  Vienna.  The  second  prize 
will  be  the  volume  of  Punch  for  the  current  half- 
year.  The  third  a  subscription  to  the  British  and 
Foreign  Institute,  &c.,  &c. 

With  a  pride  and  gratification  we  cannot  conceal, 
we  at  once  introduce  the  public  to  GEORGE  DE  BARN- 
WELL,  by  SIR  E.  L.  B.  L.,  BART. 

We  are  not  at  liberty  to  reveal  the  gifted  author's 
name,  but  the  admirers  of  his  works  will  no  doubt 
recognize,  in  the  splendid  length  of  the  words,  the 
frequent  employment  of  the  Beautiful  and  the  Ideal, 
the  brilliant  display  of  capitals,  the  profuse  and  pro 
found  classical  learning,  and,  above  all,  in  the  an 
nouncement  that  this  is  to  be  the  last  of  his  works — 
one  who  has  delighted  us  for  many  years. 

GEOKGE    BE    BARNWELL. 

IN  the  Morning  of  Life  the  Truthful  wooed  the 
Beautiful,  and  their  offspring  was  Love.  Like  his 
Divine  parents,  He  is  eternal.  He  has  his  Mother's 
ravishing  smile ;  his  Father's  steadfast  eyes.  He 
rises  every  day,  fresh  and  glorious  as  the  untired 
Sun-God.  He  is  EROS,  the  ever  young.  Dark,  dark 
were  this  world  of  ours  had  either  Divinity  left  it — 
dark  without  the  day-beams  of  the  Latonian  Chariot- 


GEORGE    DE    BARNWELL.  11 

eer,  darker  yet  without  the  daedal  Smile  of  the  God 
of  the  Other  Bow  !  Dost  know  him,  Reader? 

Old  is  he,  EROS,  the  ever  young !  He  and  Time 
were  children  together.  CHRONES  shall  die,  too ;  but 
Love  is  imperishable.  Brightest  of  the  Divinities, 
where  has  thou  not  been  sung  ?  Other  worships  pass 
away  ;  the  idols  for  whom  pyramids  were  raised  lie  in 
the  desert  crumbling  and  almost  nameless ;  the 
Olympians  are  fled,  their  fanes  no  longer  rise  among 
the  quivering  olive  groves  of  Ilissus,  or  crown  the 
emerald  islets  of  the  amethyst  .ZEgean !  These  are 
gone,  but  thou  remainest.  There  is  still  a  garland 
for  thy  temple,  a  heifer  for  thy  stone.  A  heifer? 
Ah,  many  a  darker  sacrifice.  Other  blood  is  shed  at 
thy  altars,  Remorseless  One,  and  the  Poet  Priest  who 
ministers  at  thy  Shrine  draws  his  auguries  from  the 
bleeding  hearts  of  men  ! 

While  Love  hath  no  end,  Can  the  Bard  ever  cease 
singing  ?  In  Kingly  and  Heroic  ages,  'twas  of  Kings 
and  Heroes  that  the  Poet  spake.  But  in  these,  our 
times,  the  Artisan  hath  his  voice  as  well  as  the 
Monarch.  The  People  To-Day  is  King,  and  we 
chronicle  his  woes,  as  They  of  old  did  the  sacrifice 
of  the  princely  IPHIGENIA,  or  the  fate  of  the  crowned 
AGAMEMNON. 

Is  ODYSSEUS  less  august  in  his  rags  than  in  his 
purple?  Fate,  Passion,  Mystery,  the  Victim,  the 
Avenger,  the  Hate  that  arms,  the  Furies  that  tear. 


the  Love  that  bleeds,  are  not  these  with  us  Still  ?  are 
not  these  still  the  weapons  of  the  Artist  ?  the  colours 
of  his  pallette,  the  chords  of  his  lyre  ?  Listen  !  I 
tell  thee  a  tale — not  of  Kings — but  of  Men — not  of 
Thrones,  but  of  Love,  and  Grief,  and  Crime.  Listen, 
and  but  once  more.  'Tis  for  the  last  time  (probably) 
these  fingers  shall  sweep  the  strings. 

E.  L.  B.  L. 

NOONDAY    IN    CHEPE. 

'Twas  noonday  in  Chepe.  High  Tide  in  the 
mighty  Kiver  City ! — its  banks  well  nigh  overflowing 
with  the  myriad-waved  Stream  of  Man !  The  top 
pling  wains,  bearing  the  produce  of  a  thousand  marts ; 
the  gilded  equipage  of  the  Millionary ;  the  humbler, 
but  yet  larger,  vehicle  from  the  green  metropolitan 
suburbs  (the  Hanging  Gardens  of  our  Babylon),  in 
which  every  traveller  might,  for  a  modest  remunera 
tion,  take  a  republican  seat ;  the  mercenary  caroche, 
with  its  private  freight ;  the  brisk  curricle  of  the 
letter-carrier,  robed  in  royal  scarlet ;  these  and  a 
thousand  others  were  labouring  and  pressing  onward, 
and  locked  and  bound  and  hustling  together  in  the 
narrow  channel  of  Chepe.  The  imprecations  of  the 
charioteers  were  terrible.  From  the  noble's  broidered 
hammer-cloth,  or  the  driving-seat  of  the  common 
coach,  each  driver  assailed  the  other  with  floods  of 


GEORGE    DE    BARNWELL.  13 

ribald  satire.  The  pavid  matron  within  the  one 
vehicle  (speeding  to  the  Bank  for  her  semestrial  pit 
tance)  shrieked  and  trembled ;  the  angry  DIVES  has 
tening  to  his  offices  (to  add  another  thousand  to  his 
heap),  thrust  his  head  over  the  blazoned  panels,  and 
displayed  an  eloquence  of  objurgation  which  his  very 
Menials  could  not  equal ;  the  dauntless  street  urchins, 
as  they  gaily  threaded  the  Labyrinth  of  Life,  en 
joyed  the  perplexities  and  quarrels  of  the  scene,  and 
exacerbated  the  already  furious  combatants  by  their 
poignant  infantile  satire.  And  the  Philosopher,  as  he 
regarded  the  hot  strife  and  struggle  of  these  Candi 
dates  in  the  race  for  Gold,  thought  with  a  sigh  of  the 
Truthful  and  the  Beautiful,  and  walked  on,  melan 
choly  and  serene. 

'Twas  noon  in  Chepe.  The  ware-rooms  were 
thronged.  The  flaunting  windows  of  the  mercers 
attracted  many  a  purchaser :  the  glittering  panes, 
behind  which  Birmingham  had  glazed  its  simulated 
silver,  induced  rustics  to  pause :  although  only  noon, 
the  savory  odours  of  the  Cook  Shops  tempted  the 
ever  hungry  citizen  to  the  bun  of  Bath,  or  to  the  fragrant 
potage  that  mocks  the  turtle's  flavour — the  turtle ! 
O  dapibus  supremi  grata  testudo  Jovis  !  I  am  an 
Alderman  when  I  think  of  thee  !  Well ;  it  was  noon 
in  Chepe. 

But  were  all  battling  for  gain  there  ?  Among  the 
many  brilliant  shops  whose  casements  shone  upon 


14  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

Chepe,  there  stood  one  a  century  back  (about  which 
period  our  tale  opens)  devoted  to  the  sale  of  Colonial 
produce.  A  rudely  carved  image  of  a  negro  with  a 
fantastic  plume  and  apron  of  variegated  feathers,  de 
corated  the  lintel.  The  East  and  the  West  had  sent 
their  contributions  to  replenish  the  window. 

The  poor  slave  had  toiled,  died  perhaps,  to  pro 
duce  yon  pyramid  of  swarthy  sugar  marked  "  ONLY 
6%d." — That  catty  box,  on  which  was  the  epigraph 
STRONG  FAMILY  CONGO  ONLY  3s.  9^.,  was  from  the 
country  of  Confutzee — That  heap  of  dark  produce 
bore  the  legend  « THY  OUR  REAL  NUT  "— 
'Twas  Cocoa — and  that  nut  the  Cocoa-nut,  whose 
milk  has  refreshed  the  traveller  and  perplexed  the 
natural  philosopher.  The  shop  in  question  was,  in  a 
word,  a  Grocer's. 

In  the  midst  of  the  shop  and  its  gorgeous  con 
tents  sat  one  who,  to  judge  from  his  appearance 
(though  'twas  a  difficult  task,  as,  in  sooth,  his  back 
was  turned),  had  just  reached  that  happy  period 
of  life  when  the  Boy  is  expanding  into  the  Man.  0 
Youth,  Youth  !  Happy  and  Beautiful !  0  fresh 
and  roseate  dawn  of  life ;  when  the  dew  yet  lies  on 
the  flowers,  ere  they  have  been  scorched  and  withered 
by  Passion's  fiery  Sun  !  Immersed  in  thought  or 
study,  and  indifferent  to  the  din  around  him,  sate  the 
Boy.  A  careless  guardian  was  he  of  the  treasures 
confided  to  him.  The  crowd  passed  in  Chepe;  he 


GEORGE    DE    BARNWELL.  15 

never  marked  it.  The  sun  shone  on  Chepe  ;  he  only 
asked  that  it  should  illumine  the  page  he  read.  The 
knave  might  filch  his  treasures,  he  was  heedless  of  the 
knave.  The  customer  might  enter  ;  but  his  book  was 
all  in  all  to  him. 

And  indeed  a  customer  was  there  ;  a  little  hand 
was  tapping  on  the  counter  with  a  pretty  impatience  ; 
a  pair  of  arch  eyes  were  gazing  at  the  Boy,  admiring, 
perhaps,  his  manly  proportions  through  the  homely 
and  tightened  garments  he  wore. 

"  Ahem  !  Sir  !  I  say,  young  man  !  "  the  customer 
exclaimed. 

"  Ton  d1  apameibomenos  prosephe"  read  on  the 
Student,  his  voice  choked  with  emotion.  "  What 
language  ! "  he  said ;  "  How  rich,  how  noble,  how 
sonorous  !  prosephe  podas — " 

The  customer  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter  so 
shrill  and  cheery,  that  the  young  Student  could  not 
but  turn  round,  and,  blushing,  for  the  first  time  re 
marked  her.  "  A  pretty  Grocer's  boy  you  are,"  she 
cried,  "  with  your  applepiebomenos  and  your  French 
and  lingo.  Am  I  to  be  kept  waiting  for  hever  ?  " 

"  Pardon,  fair  Maiden,"  said  he,  with  high-bred 
courtesy ;  "  'Twas  not  French  I  read,  'twas  the  God 
like  language  of  the  blind  old  bard.  In  what  can  I 
be  serviceable  to  ye,  lady  1 "  and  to  spring  from  his 
desk,  to  smooth  his  apron,  to  stand  before  her  the 


16  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

obedient  Shop  Boy,  the  Poet  no  more,  was  the  work 
of  a  moment. 

I  might  have  prigged  this  box  of  figs,"  the  damsel 
said,  good  naturedly,  "  and  you'd  never  have  turned 
round." 

"  They  came  from  the  country  of  HECTOR,"  the 
boy  said.  "  Would  you  have  currants,  lady  ?  These 
once  bloomed  in  the  island  gardens  of  the  blue 
.ZEgean.  They  are  uncommon  fine  ones,  and  the 
figure  is  low ;  they're  fourpence-halfpenny  a  pound. 
Would  ye  mayhap  make  trial  of  our  teas  ?  We  do 
not  advertise,  as  some  folks  do :  but  sell  as  low  as 
any  other  house." 

"You're  precious  young  to  have  all  these  good 
things,"  the  girl  exclaimed,  not  unwilling,  seemingly, 
to  prolong  the  conversation.  "  If  I  was  you,  and 
stood  behind  the  counter,  I  should  be  eating  figs  the 
whole  day  long." 

"  Time  was,"  answered  the  lad,  and  not  long  since 
I  thought  so,  too,  "  I  thought  I  never  should  be  tired 
of  figs.  But  my  old  uncle  bade  me  take  my  fill,  and 
now  in  sooth  I  am  aweary  of  them." 

"  I  think  you  gentlemen  are  always  so,"  the  co 
quette  said. 

"  Nay,  say  not  so,  fair  stranger  !  "  the  youth  re 
plied,  his  face  kindling  as  he  spoke,  and  his  eagle 
eyes  flashing  fire.  "  Figs  pall ;  but  0  !  the  Beautiful 
never  does  !  Figs  rot ;  but  0  !  the  Truthful  is  eter- 


GEORGE    DE    BARNWELL.  17 

nal.  I  was  born,  lady,  to  grapple  with  the  Lofty  and 
the  Ideal.  My  soul  yearns  for  the  Visionary.  I 
stand  behind  the  counter,  it  is  true ;  but  I  ponder 
here  upon  the  deeds  of  heroes,  and  muse  over  the 
thoughts  of  sages.  What  is  grocery  for  one  who  has 
ambition  ?  What  sweetness  hath  Muscovado  to  him 
who  hath  tasted  of  Poesy  ?  The  Ideal,  lady,  I  often 
think,  is  the  true  Real,  and  the  Actual  but  a  visionary 
hallucination.  But  pardon  me  ;  with  what  may  I 
serve  thee?  " 

"  I  came  only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust,"  the 
girl  said,  with  a  faltering  voice ;  "  but  0,  I  should 
like  to  hear  you  speak  on  for  ever  ! 1} 

Only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust  ?  G-irl,  thou 
earnest  for  other  things !  Thou  lovedst  his  voice  ? 
Syren  !  what  was  the  witchery  of  thine  own  ?  He 
deftly  made  up  the  packet,  and  placed  it  in  the  little 
hand.  She  paid  for  her  small  purchase,  and,  with  a 
farewell  glance  of  her  lustrous  eyes,  she  left  him. 
She  passed  slowly  through  the  portal,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  more  was  lost  in  the  crowd.  It  was  noon  in 
Chepe.  And  GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL  was  alone. 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.— VOL.  II. 

} 

BY  SIR  E.  L.  B.  L.   B  B.  L  L.  B  B  B.   L  L  L.,  BART. 

WE  have  selected  the  following  episodical  chapter 
in  preference  to  any  relating  to  the  mere  story  of 
GEORGE  BARNWELL,  with  which  most  readers  are 
familiar. 

Up  to  this  passage  (extracted  from  the  beginning 
of  Vol.  ii.)  the  tale  is  briefly  thus : — 

That  rogue  of  a  MILLWOOD  has  come  back  every 
day  to  the  grocer's  shop  in  Chepe,  wanting  some  sugar, 
or  some  nutmeg,  or  some  figs,  half-a-dozen  times  in 
the  week. 

She  and  GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL  have  vowed  to 
each  other  an  eternal  attachment. 

This  flame  acts  violently  upon  GEORGE.  His 
bosom  swells  with  ambition.  His  genius  breaks  out 
prodigiously.  He  talks  about  the  Good,  the  Beau 
tiful,  the  Ideal,  &c.,  in  and  out  of  all  season,  and  is 
virtuous  and  eloquent  almost  beyond  belief — in  fact 
like  DEVEREUX,  or  P.  CLIFFORD,  or  E.  ARAM,  Es 
quires. 


GEORGE    DE   BARN  WELL.  19 

Inspired  by  MILLWOOD  &  LOVE,  GEORGE  robs  the 
till,  and  mingles  in  the  world  which  he  is  destined  to 
ornament.  He  outdoes  all  the  dandies,  all  the  wits, 
all  the  scholars,  and  all  the  voluptuaries  of  the  age — 
an  indefinite  period  of  time  between  QUEEN  ANN  and 
GEOJUJE  IT. — dines  with  CURLL  at  St.  John's  gate, 
pinks  COLONEL  CHARTERIS  in  a  duel  behind  Montague 
House,  is  initiated  into  the  intrigues  of  the  CHEVA 
LIER  ST.  GEORGE,  whom  he  entertains  at  his  sump 
tuous  pavillion  at  Hampstead,  and  likewise  in  disguise 
at  the  shop  in  Cheapside. 

His  uncle,  the  owner  of  the  shop,  a  surly  cur 
mudgeon  with  very  little  taste  for  the  True  and  the 
Beautiful,  has  retired  from  business  to  the  pastoral 
village  in  Cambridgeshire  from  which  the  noble  BARN- 
WELLS  came.  GEORGE'S  cousin  ANNABEL  is,  of  course, 
consumed  with  a  secret  passion  for  him. 

Some  trifling  inaccuracies  may  be  remarked  in  the 
ensuing  brilliant  little  chapter ;  but  it  must  be  re 
membered  that  the  author  wished  to  present  an  age 
at  a  glance ;  and  the  dialogue  is  quite  as  fine  and 
correct  as  that  in  the  "  Last  of  the  Barons,"  or  in 
"Eugene  Aram,"  or  other  works  of  our  author,  in 
which  Sentiment  and  History,  or  the  True  and  the 
Beautiful,  are  united. 


20  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

CHAP.  XXIV. 
BUTTON'S  IN  PALL  MALL, 

THOSE  who  frequent  the  dismal  and  enormous 
Mansions  of  Silence  which  society  has  raised  to 
Ennui  in  that  Omphalos  of  town,  Pall  Mall,  and 
which,  because  they  knock  you  down  with  their  dull 
ness,  are  called  Clubs  no  doubt ;  those  who  yawn  from 
a  bay-window  in  St.  James's  Street,  at  a  half-score  of 
other  dandies  gaping  from  another  bay-window  over 
the  way ;  those  who  consult  a  dreary  evening  paper 
for  news,  or  satisfy  themselves  with  the  jokes  of  the 
miserable  Punch,  by  way  of  wit;  the  men  about 
town  of  the  present  day,  in  a  word,  can  have  but  little 
idea  of  London  some  six  or  eight  score  years  back. 
Thou  pudding-sided  old  dandy  of  St.  James's  Street, 
with  thy  lackered  boots,  thy  dyed  whiskers,  and  thy 
suffocating  waistband,  what  art  thou  to  thy  brilliant 
predecessor  in  the  same  quarter?  The  Brougham 
from  which  thou  descendest  at  the  portal  of  the  Carl- 
ton  or  the  Travellers',  is  like  every  body  else's ;  thy 
black  coat  has  no  more  plaits,  nor  buttons,  nor  fancy 
in  it  than  thy  neighbour's  ;  thy  hat  was  made  on  the 
very  block  on  which  LORD  ADDLEPATE'S  was  cast, 
who  has  just  entered  the  Club  before  thee.  You  and 
he  yawn  together  out  of  the  same  omnibus-box  every 


GEORGE    DE   BARN  WELL.  21 

night;  you  fancy  yourselves  men  of  pleasure;  you 
fancy  yourselves  men  of  fashion ;  you  fancy  your 
selves  men  of  taste ;  in  fancy,  in  taste,  in  opinion,  in 
philosophy,  the  newspaper  legislates  for  you ;  it  is 
there  you  get  your  jokes,  and  your  thoughts,  and 
your  facts  and  your  wisdom — poor  Pall  Mall  dullards. 
Stupid  slaves  of  the  press,  on  that  ground  which  you 
at  present  occupy,  there  were  men  of  wit  and  pleasure 
and  fashion,  some  five-and-twenty  lustres  ago. 

We  are  at  BUTTON'S — the  well-known  sign  of  the 
Turk's  Head.  The  crowd  of  periwigged  heads  at  the 
windows — the  swearing  chairman  round  the  steps 
(the  blazoned  and  coronalled  panels  of  whose  vehicles 
denote  the  lofty  rank  of  their  owners), — the  throng  of 
embroidered  beaux  entering  or  departing,  and  render 
ing  the  air  fragrant  with  the  odours  of  pulvillio  and 
pomander,  proclaim  the  celebrated  resort  of  London's 
Wit  and  Fashion.  It  is  the  corner  of  Regent  Street. 
Carlton  House  has  not  yet  been  taken  down. 

A  stately  gentleman  in  crimson  velvet  and  gold 
is  sipping  chocolate  at  one  of  the  tables,  in  earnest 
converse  with  a  friend  whose  suit  is  likewise  embroi 
dered,  but  stained  by  time,  or  wine  mayhap,  or  wear. 
A  little  deformed  gentleman  in  iron-gray  is  reading 
the  Morning  Chronicle  newspaper  by  the  fire,  while  a 
divine,  with  a  broad  brogue  and  a  shovel  hat  and 
cassock  is  talking  freely  with  a  gentleman,  whose  star 
and  riband,  as  well  as  the  unmistakeable  beauty  of 


22 

his  Phidian  countenance,  proclaims  him  to  be  a  mem 
ber  of  Britain's  aristocracy. 

Two  ragged  youths,  the  one  tall,  gaunt,  clumsy 
and  scrofulous  ;  the  other  with  a  wild,  careless,  beau 
tiful  look,  evidently  indicating  Race,  are  gazing  in  at 
the  window,  not  merely  at  the  crowd  in  the  celebrated 
Club,  but  at  TIMOTHY,  the  waiter,  who  is  removing 
a  plate  of  that  exquisite  dish,  the  muffin  (then  newly 
invented),  at  the  desire  of  some  of  the  revellers 
within. 

"  I  would,  SAM,"  said  the  wild  youth  to  his  com 
panion,  "  that  I  had  some  of  my  Mother  MACCLES- 
FIELD'S  gold,  to  enable  us  to  eat  of  those  cates  and 
mingle  with  yon  springalds  and  beaux." 

"  To  vaunt  a  knowledge  of  the  stoical  philosophy," 
said  the  youth  addressed  as  SAM,  "  might  elicit  a 
smile  of  incredulity  upon  the  cheek  of  the  parasite  of 
pleasure  ;  but  there  are  moments  in  life  when  History 
fortifies  endurance :  and  past  study  renders  present 
deprivation  more  bearable.  If  our  pecuniary  re 
sources  be  exiguous,  let  our  resolution,  DICK,  supply 
the  deficiencies  of  Fortune.  The  muffin  we  desire 
to-day  would  little  benefit  us  to-morrow.  Poor  and 
hungry,  as  we  are,  are  we  less  happy,  DICK,  than  yon 
listless  voluptuary  who  banquets  on  the  food  which 
you  covet  1 " 

And  the  two  lads  turned  away  up  Waterloo  Place, 
and  past  the  Parthenon  Club-house,  and  disappeared 


GEORGE    DE    BAR.NWELL.  23 

to  take  a  meal  of  cow-heel  at  a  neighbouring  cook's 
shop.  Their  names  were  SAMUEL  JOHNSON  and 
RICHARD  SAVAGE. 

Meanwhile  the  conversation  at  BUTTON'S  was  fast 
and  brilliant.  "  By  WOOD'S  thirteens,  and  the  divvle 
go  wid  'em,"  cried  the  Church  dignitary  in  the  cas 
sock,  "is  it  in  blue  and  goold  ye  are  this  morning, 
SIR  RICHARD,  when  you  ought  to  be  in  seebles1?" 

"  Who's  dead,  DEAN  ? "  said  the  nobleman,  the 
dean's  companion. 

"  Faix,  mee  LARD  BOLINGBROKE,  as  sure  as  mee 
name's  JONATHAN  SWIFT — and  I'm  not  so  sure  of 
that  neither,  for  who  knows  his  father's  name? — 
there's  been  a  mighty  cruel  murther  committed  en 
tirely.  A  child  of  DICK  STEELE'S  has  been  barba 
rously  slain,  dthrawn,  and  quarthered,  and  it's  JOE 
ADDISON  yondther  has  done  it.  Ye  should  have  kill 
ed  one  of  your  own,  JOE,  ye  thief  of  the  world." 

"  I !"  said  the  amazed  and  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 
JOSEPH  ADDISON;  "  I  kill  DICK'S  child  !  I  was  G-od- 
father  to  the  last." 

"  And  promised  a  cup  and  never  sent  it,"  DICK 
ejaculated.  JOSEPH  looked  grave. 

"  The  child  I  mean  is  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET, 
KNIGHT  AND  BARONET.  What  made  ye  kill  him,  ye 
savage  Mohock  ?  The  whole  town  is  in  tears  about 
the  good  knight ;  all  the  ladies  at  Church  this  after 
noon  were  in  mourning ;  all  the  booksellers  are  wild  ; 


24  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

and  LINTOT  says  not  a  third  of  the  copies  of  the  Spec 
tator  are  sold  since  the  death  of  the  brave  old  gen 
tleman."  And  the  DEAN  OF  ST.  PATRICK'S  pulled 
out  the  Spectator  newspaper,  containing  the  well- 
known  passage  regarding  SIR  ROGER'S  death.  "I 
bought  it  but  now  in  "  Wellington-street,"  he  said ; 
"  the  news-boys  were  howling  all  down  the  Strand." 
"  What  a  miracle  is  Genius — Genius,  the  Divine 
and  Beautiful,"  said  a  gentleman  leaning  against  the 
same  fire-place  with  the  deformed  cavalier  in  iron-grey, 
and  addressing  that  individual,  who  was  in  fact  MR. 
ALEXANDER  POPE,  "what  a  marvellous  gift  is  this, 
and  royal  privilege  of  Art !  To  make  the  Ideal  more 
credible  than  the  Actual :  to  enchain  our  hearts,  to 
command  our  hopes,  our  regrets,  our  tears,  for  a  mere 
brain-born  Emanation :  to  invest  with  life  the  Incor 
poreal,  and  to  glamour  the  cloudy  into  substance, — 
these  are  the  lofty  privileges  of  the  Poet,  if  I  have 
read  poesy  aright ;  and  I  am  as  familiar  with  the 
sounds  that  rang  from  HOMER'S  lyre,  as  with  the 
strains  which  celebrate  the  loss  of  BELINDA'S  lovely 
locks,  (MR.  POPE  blushed  and  bowed,  highly  delight 
ed) — "  these,  I  say,  sir,  are  the  privileges  of  the  Poet 
— the  Poietes — the  Maker — he  moves  the  world,  and 
asks  no  lever ;  if  he  cannot  charm  death  into  life  as 
ORPHEUS  feigned  to  do,  he  can  create  Beauty  out  of 
Naught,  and  defy  Death  by  rendering  Thought  Eter 
nal.  Ho  !  JEMMY,  another  flask  of  Nantz." 


GEORGE    DE    BARNWELL.  25 

And  the  boy — for  lie  who  addressed  the  most 
brilliant  company  of  wits  in  Europe  was  little  more 
— emptied  the  contents  of  the  brandy-flask  into  a  sil 
ver  flagon,  and  quaffed  it  gaily  to  the  health  of  the 
company  assembled.  'Twas  the  third  he  had  taken 
during  the  sitting.  Presently,  and  with  a  graceful 
salute  to  the  Society,  he  quitted  the  coffee-house,  and 
was  seen  entering  on  a  magnificent  Arab  past  the 
National  Gallery. 

"  Who  is  yon  spark  in  blue  and  silver  ?  He  beats 
JOE  ADDISON,  himself,  in  drinking,  and  pious  JOE  is 
the  greatest  toper  in  the  three  kingdoms,"  DICK 
STEELE  said  good-naturedly. 

"  His  paper  in  the  Spectator  beats  thy  best,  DICK, 
thou  sluggard,"  the  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  MR.  ADDI 
SON  exclaimed.  "  He  is  the  author  of  that  famous  No. 
996,  for  which  you  have  all  been  giving  me  the 
credit." 

"  The  rascal  foiled  me  at  capping  verses,"  DEAN 
SWIFT  said ;  "  and  won  a  tenpenny  piece  of  me,  plague 
take  him ! " 

"  He  has  suggested  an  emendation  in  my  *  Homer,' 
which  proves  him  a  delicate  scholar,"  MR.  POPE  ex 
claimed. 

"  He  knows  more  of  the  French  king  than  any 
man  I  have  met  with ;  and  we  must  have  an  eye  upon 
him,"  said  LORD  BOLINGBROKE,  then  Secretary  of 
State  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  beckoning  a  suspicious- 


26  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

looking  person  who  was  drinking  at  a  side-table,  whis 
pered  to  him  something. 

Meantime  who  was  he  ?  where  was  he,  this  youth 
who  had  struck  all  the  wits  of  London  with  admira 
tion?  His  galloping  charger  had  returned  to  the 
City;  his  splendid  court-suit  was  doffed  for  the 
citizen's  gabardine  and  grocer's  humble  apron. 

GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL  was  in   Chepe — in  Chepe, 
at  the  feet  of  MARTHA  MILLWOOD. 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.— VOL  III. 

BY    SIR   E.    L.    B.   L.    B    B.    L   L.    B   B    B.   L   L   L.,    BART. 
THE    CONDEMNED    CELL. 

"  Quid  me  mollibus  implicas  lacertis.  my  EL- 
LINOR  ?  Nay,"  GEORGE  added,  a  faint  smile  illumining 
his  wan  but  noble  features,  "  why  speak  to  thee  in 
the  accents  of  the  Roman  poet,  which  thou  compre- 
hendest  not  ?  Bright  One,  there  be  other  things  in 
Life,  in  Nature,  in  this  Inscrutable  Labyrinth,  this 
Heart  on  which  thou  leanest,  which  are  equally  unin 
telligible  to  thee  !  Yes,  my  pretty  one,  what  is  the 
Unintelligible  but  the  Ideal  ?  what  is  the  Ideal  but 
the  Beautiful  ?  what  the  Beautiful  but  the  Eternal  ? 
And  the  Spirit  of  Man  that  would  commune  with 
these  is  like  Him  who  wanders  by  the  thina  poluph- 
loisboio  thalasses,  and  shrinks  awe-struck  before  that 
Azure  Mystery." 


28 

EMILY'S  eyes  filled  with  fresh-gushing  dew.  "  Speak 
on.  speak  ever  thus,  my  GEORGE,"  she  exclaimed. 
BARNWELL'S  chains  rattled  as  the  confiding  girl  clung 
to  him.  Even  SNOGGIN,  the  Turnkey  appointed  to 
sit  with  the  Prisoner,  was  affected  by  his  noble  and 
appropriate  language,  and  also  burst  into  tears. 

"  You  weep,  my  SNOGGIN,"  the  Boy  said  ;  "  and 
why  ?  Hath  Life  been  so  charming  to  me  that  I 
should  wish  to  retain  it  ?  Hath  Pleasure  no  after- 
Weariness  1  Ambition  no  Deception  5  Wealth  no 
Care ;  and  Glory  no  Mockery  ?  Psha  !  I  am  sick 
of  Success,  palled  of  Pleasure,  weary  of  Wine,  and 
Wit,  and — nay,  start  not,  my  ADELAIDE — and 
Woman.  I  fling  away  all  these  things  as  the  Toys 
of  Boyhood.  Life  is  the  Soul's  Nursery.  I  am  a 
Man.  and  pine  for  the  Illimitable  !  Mark  you  me  ! 
Has  the  Morrow  any  terrors  for  me,  think  ye  ?  Did 
SOCRATES  falter  at  his  poison?  Did  SENECA  blench 
in  his  bath  ?  Did  BRUTUS  shirk  the  sword  when  his 
Great  Stake  was  lost  ?  Did  even  weak  CLEOPATRA 
shrink  from  the  Serpent's  fatal  nip  ?  and  why  should 
I  ?  My  great  Hazard  hath  been  played,  and  I  pay 
my  forfeit.  Lie  sheathed  in  my  heart,  thou  flashing 
Blade  !  Welcome  to  my  Bosom,  thou  faithful  Ser 
pent  ;  I  hug  thee,  peace-bearing  Image  of  the  Eter 
nal  !  Ha,  the  hemlock  cup  !  Fill  high,  boy,  for  my 
soul  is  thirsty  for  the  Infinite  !  Get  ready  the  bath, 
friends ;  prepare  me  for  the  feast  of  To-morrow — 


GEORGE    DE    BARNWELL.  29 

bathe  my  limbs  in  odours,  and  put  ointment  in  my 
hair." 

"  Has  for  a  bath,"  SNOGGIN  interposed,  "  they're 
not  to  be  ad  in  this  ward  of  the  prison ;  but  I  dussay 
HEMMY  will  git  you  a  little  hoil  for  your  air." 

The  Prisoned  One  laughed  loud  and  merrily. 
"  My  guardian  understands  me  not,  pretty  one — and 
thou  ?  what  sayst  thou  ?  from  those  dear  lips  me- 
thinks — plura  sunt  oscula  quam  sententice — I  kiss 
away  thy  tears,  dove ! — they  will  flow  apace  when  I 
am  gone,  then  they  will  dry,  and  presently  these  fair 
eyes  will  shine  on  another,  as  they  have  beamed  on 
poor  GEORGE  BARNWELL.  Yet  wilt  thou  not  all 
forget  him,  sweet  one.  He  was  an  honest  fellow,  and 
had  a  kindly  heart,  for  all  the  world  said — " 

"  That,  that  he  had,"  cried  the  gaoler  and  the 
girl  in  voices  gurgling  with  emotion.  And  you  who 
read  !  you  unconvicted  Convict — you,  murderer, 
though  haply  you  have  slain  no  one — you,  Felon  in 
posse,  if  not  in  esse — deal  gently  with  one  who  has 
used  the  Opportunity  that  has  failed  thee — and  be 
lieve  that  the  Truthful  and  the  Beautiful  bloom 
sometimes  in  the  dock  and  the  convict's  tawny  Ga 
bardine  ! 

******* 

In  the  matter  for  which  he  suffered,  GEORGE 
could  never  be  brought  to  acknowledge  that  he  was 
at  all  in  the  wrong.  "  It  may  be  an  error  of  judg- 


30  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

ment,"  he  said  to  the  Venerable  Chaplain  of  the 
gaol,  "  but  it  is  no  crime.  Were  it  Crime,  I  should 
feel  Remorse.  Where  there  is  no  Remorse,  Crime 
cannot  exist.  I  am  not  sorry  :  therefore,  I  am  inno 
cent.  Is  the  proposition  a  fair  one  ?  " 

The  excellent  Doctor  admitted  that  it  was  not  to 
be  contested. 

"  And  wherefore,  Sir,  should  I  have  sorrow,"  the 
Boy  resumed,  "  for  ridding  the  world  of  a  sordid 
worm  ;  *  of  a  man  whose  very  soul  was  dross,  and 
who  never  had  a  feeling  for  the  Truthful  and 
the  Beautiful  ?  When  I  stood  before  my  uncle  in 
the  moonlight,  in  the  gardens  of  the  ancestral  halls 
of  the  DE  BARNWELLS,  I  felt  that  it  was  the 
NEMESIS  come  to  overthrow  him.  '  Dog,'  I  said 
to  the  trembling  slave,  '  tell  me  where  thy  Gold  is. 
Thou  hast  no  use  for  it.  I  can  spend  it  in  relieving 
the  Poverty  on  which  thou  tramplest ;  in  aiding 
Science,  which  thou  knowest  not ;  in  uplifting  Art,  to 

*  This  is  a  gross  plagiarism :  the  above  sentiment  is  ex 
pressed  much  more  eloquently  in  the  ingenious  romance  of 
Eugene  Aram  : — "  The  burning  desires  I  have  known — the 
resplendent  visions  I  have  nursed — the  sublime  aspirings  that 
have  lifted  me  so  often  from  sense  and  clay  :  these  tell  me,  that 
•whether  for  good  or  ill,  I  am  the  thing  of  an  immortality,  and 
the  creature  of  a  God.  ***'•*".!  have  de 
stroyed  a  man  noxious  to  the  world  ;  with  the  wealth  by  which 
he  afflicted  society,  I  have  been  the  means  of  blessing  many." 


GEORGE    DE    BARNWELL.  31 

which  thou  art  blind.  Give  Gold,  and  thou  art  free.' 
But  lie  spake  not,  and  I  slew  him." 

"  I  would  not  have  this  doctrine  vulgarly  promul 
gated,"  said  the  admirable  chaplain,  "  for  its  general 
practice  might  chance  to  do  harm.  Thou,  my  son, 
the  Refined,  the  Gentle,  the  Loving  and  Beloved,  the 
Poet  and  Sage,  urged  by  what  I  cannot  but  think  a 
grievous  error,  hast  appeared  as  Avenger.  Think 
what  would  be  the  world's  condition,  were  men  with 
out  any  Yearning  after  the  Ideal  to  attempt  to  reor 
ganise  Society,  to  redistribute  Property,  to  avenge 
Wrong." 

"  A  rabble  of  pigmies  scaling  Heaven,"  said  the 
noble,  though  misguided  young  Prisoner.  "  PROME 
THEUS  was  a  Giant,  and  he  fell." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  brave  youth  !  "  the  benevolent 
DR.  FUZZWIG  exclaimed,  clasping  the  Prisoner's  mar 
ble  and  manacled  hand  ;  "  and  the  Tragedy  of  To 
morrow  will  teach  the  World  that  Homicide  is  not  to 
be  permitted  even  to  the  most  amiable  Genius,  and 
that  the  lover  of  the  Ideal  and  the  Beautiful,  as  thou 
art,  my  son,  must  respect  the  Real  likewise." 

"  Look  !  here  is  supper  !  "  cried  BARNWELL  gaily. 
"  This  is  the  Real,  Doctor ;  let  us  respect  it  and  fall 
to."  He  partook  of  the  meal  as  joyously  as  if  it  had 
been  one  of  his  early  festals ;  but  the  worthy  chap 
lain  could  scarcely  eat  it  for  tears. 


PHIL.  FOGARTY.— A   TALE   OF   THE   FIGHTING 
ONETY-ONETH. 

BY     HARRY      ROLLICKER. 
I. 

THE  gabion  was  ours.  After  two  hours'  fighting  we 
were  in  possession  of  the  first  embrasure,  and  made 
ourselves  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  would  ad 
mit.  JACK  DELAMERE,  TOM  DELANCY,  JERRY  BLAKE, 
the  Doctor,  and  myself,  sate  down  under  a  pontoon, 
and  our  servants  laid  out  a  hasty  supper  on  a  tum 
bril.  Though  CAMBACERES  had  escaped  me  so  pro- 
vokingly  after  I  cut  him  down,  his  spoils  were  mine ; 
a  cold  fowl  and  a  Bologna  sausage  were  found  in  the 
Marshal's  holsters ;  and  in  the  haversack  of  a  French 
private  who  lay  a  corpse  on  the.  glacis,  we  found  a 
loaf  of  bread,  his  three  days'  ration.  Instead  of  salt, 
we  had  gunpowder ;  and  you  may  be  sure,  wherever 
the  Doctor  was,  a  flask  of  good  brandy  was  behind 
him  in  his  instrument-case.  We  sate  down  and  made 
a  soldier's  supper.  The  Doctor  pulled  a  few  of  the 
delicious  fruit  from  the  lemon  trees  growing  near 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  33 


(and  round  which  the  Carabiniers  and  the  24th  Leger 
had  made  a  desperate  rally),  and  punch  was  brewed 
in  JACK  DELAMERE'S  helmet. 

"  Faith,  it  never  had  so  much  wit  in  it.  before," 
said  the  Doctor,  as  he  ladled  out  the  drink.  "We  all 
roared  with  laughing,  except  the  guardsman,  who 
was  as  savage  as  a  Turk  at  a  christening. 

"  Buvez-en"  said  old  SAWBONES  to  our  French 
prisoner;  "  ga  vous  fera  du  bien,  mon  vieux  coq  /" 
and  the  Colonel,  whose  wound  had  been  just  dressed, 
eagerly  grasped  at  the  proffered  cup,  and  drained  it 
with  a  health  to  the  donors. 

How  strange  are  the  chances  of  war  !  But  half-an- 
hour  before  he  and  I  were  engaged  in  mortal  combat, 
and  our  prisoner  was  all  but  my  conqueror.  Grap 
pling  with  CAMBACERES,  whom  I  had  knocked  from 
his  horse,  and  was  about  to  dispatch,  I  felt  a  lunge 
behind,  which  luckily  was  parried  by  my  sabretache  ; 
a  herculean  grasp  was  at  the  next  instant  at  my 
throat — I  was  on  the  ground — my  prisoner  had  es 
caped,  and  a  gigantic  warrior  in  the  uniform  of  a 
colonel  of  the  regiment  of  Artois  glaring  over  me 
with  pointed  sword. 

"  Rends  toi,  coquin  ! "  said  he. 

"  Allez  au  Diable"  said  I,  "  a  FOGARTY  never  sur 
renders." 

I  thought  of  my  poor  mother  and  my  sisters,  at 
the  old  house  in  Killaloo — T  felt  the  tip  of  his  blade 


34  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

between  my  teeth — I  breathed  a  prayer,  and  shut  my 
eyes — when  the  tables  were  turned — the  butt-end  of 
LANTY  CLANCY'S  musket  knocked  the  sword  up  and 
broke  the  arm  that  held  it. 

"  Thonamoundiaoul  nabochlish"  said  the  French 
officer,  with  a  curse  in  the  purest  Irish.  It  was 
lucky  I  stopped  laughing  time  enough  to  bid  LANTY 
hold  his  hand,  for  the  honest  fellow  would  else  have 
brained  my  gallant  adversary.  We  were  the  better 
friends  for  our  combat,  as  what  gallant  hearts  are 
not? 

The  breach  was  to  be  stormed  at  sunset,  and  like 
true  soldiers  we  sate  down  to  make  the  most  of  our 
time.  The  rogue  of  a  Doctor  took  the  liver-wing  for 
his  share — we  gave  the  other  to  our  guest,  a  prisoner  ; 
those  scoundrels  TOM  DELAMERE  and  JACK  DELANCY 
took  the  legs — and,  faith,  poor  I  was  put  off  with  the 
Pope's-nose  and  a  bit  of  the  back. 

"  How  d'ye  like  his  Holiness's  fayture  ? "  said 
JERRY  BLAKE. 

"  Any  how  you'll  have  a  merry  thought,"  cried  the 
incorrigible  Doctor,  and  all  the  party  shrieked  at  the 
witticism. 

" De  mortuis  nil  nisi  lonum"  said  JACK, holding 
up  the  drum-stick  clean. 

"  Faith,  there's  not  enough  of  it  to  make  us  chicken- 
hearted,  anyhow,"  said  I ;  "  come,  boys,  let's  have  a 
song." 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  35 


"  Here  goes,"  said  TOM  DELANCY,  and  sang  the  fol 
lowing  lyric,  of  his  own  composition : — 

"  Dear  JACK,  this  white  mug  that  with  GUINNESS  I  fill, 
And  drink  to  the  health  of  sweet  NAN  of  the  TTill, 
"Was  once  TOMMY  TOSSPOT'S,  as  jovial  a  sot, 
As  e'er  drew  a  spiggot,  or  drained  a  full  pot — 
In  drinking,  all  round  'twas  his  joy  to  surpass, 
And  with  all  merry  tipplers  he  swigg'd  off  his  glass. 

"  One  morning  in  summer,  while  seated  so  snug, 
In  the  porch  of  his  garden,  discussing  his  jug, 
Stern  Death,  on  a  sudden,  to  TOM  did  appear, 
And  said  '  Honest  THOMAS,  come  take  your  last  bier ;' 
"We  kneaded  his  clay  in  the  shape  of  this  can, 
From  which  let  us  drink  to  the  health  of  my  NAN." 

"  Psha  !"  said  the  Doctor,  "  I've  heard  that  song 
before  ;  here's  a  new  one  for  you,  boys  !  "  and  SAW 
BONES  began,  in  a  rich  Corkagian  voice — 

"  You've  all  heard  of  LARRY  O'TooLE, 
Of  the  beautiful  town  of  Drumgoole  ; 
He  had  but  one  eye, 
To  ogle  ye  by — 
O,  murther,  but  that  was  a  jew'l ! 

A  fool 
He  made  of  de  girls,  dis  O'TooLE. 

"  Twas  he  was  the  boy  didn't  fail, 
That  tuck  down  pataties  and  mail ; 
He  never  would  shrink 
From  any  sthrong  dthrink, 


36  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

Was  it  whisky  or  Drogheda  ale ; 

I'm  baH 
This  LARRY  would  swallow  a  pail. 

"  0,  many  a  night,  at  the  bowl, 
With  LARRY  I've  sot  cheek  by  jowl ; 
He's  gone  to  his  rest, 
Where  there's  dthrink  of  the  best, 
And  so  let  us  give  his  old  sowl 

A  howl, 
For  'twas  he  made  the  noggin  to  rowl." 

I  observed  the  French  Colonel's  eye  glisten,  as  he 
heard  these  well-known  accents  of  his  country ;  but 
we  were  too  well-bred  to  pretend  to  remark  his 
emotion. 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  mountains  as  our 
songs  were  finished,  and  each  began  to  look  out  with 
some  anxiety  for  the  preconcerted  signal,  the  rocket 
from  SIR  HUSSEY  VIVIAN'S  quarters,  which  was  to 
announce  the  recommencement  of  hostilities  It  came 
just  as  the  moon  rose  in  her  silver  splendour,  and  ere 
the  rocket-stick  fell  quivering  to  the  earth  at  the  feet 
of  GENERAL  PICTON  and  SIR  LOWRY  COLE,  who  were 
at  their  posts  at  the  head  of  the  storming  parties, 
nine  hundred-and-ninety-nine  guns  in  position  opened 
their  fire  from  our  batteries,  which  were  answered  by 
a  tremendous  cannonnade  from  the  fort. 

"  Who's  going  to  dance,"  said   the   Doctor,  •'  the 
ball's  begun.    Ha  !  there  goes  poor  JACK  DELAMERE'S 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  37 


head  off !  The  ball  chose  a  soft  one.  any  how.  Come 
here,  Tim,  till  I  mend  your  leg.  Your  wife  has  need 
only  knit  half  as  many  stockings  next  year,  DOOLAN, 
my  boy.  Faix  !  there  goes  a  big  one  had  well  nigh 
stopped  my  talking ;  bedad  I  it  has  snuffed  the 
feather  off  my  cocked  hat !" 

In  this  way,  with  eighty-four  pounders  roaring  over 
us  like  hail,  the  undaunted  little  doctor  pursued  his 
jokes  and  his  duty.  That  he  had  a  feeling  heart,  all 
who  served  with  him  knew,  and  none  more  so  than 
PHILIP  FOGARTY,  the  humble  writer  of  this  tale  of 
war. 

Our  embrasure  was  luckily  bomb-proof,  and  the 
detachment  of  the  gallant  Onety-oneth  under  my 
orders,  suffered  comparatively  little.  "  Be  cool,  boys," 
I  said ;  :'  it  will  be  hot  enough  work  for  you  ere  long." 
The  honest  fellows  answered  with  an  Irish  cheer.  I 
saw  that  it  affected  our  prisoner. . 

"  Countryman,"  said  I,  "  I  know  you ;  but  an  Irish 
man  was  never  a  traitor." 

"  Taisez-vous  /"  said  he,  putting  his  finger  to  his 
lip.  "  C'est  la  fortune  de  la  guerre :  if  ever  you 
come  to  Paris,  ask  for  the  MARQUIS  D'  O'MAHONY, 
and  I  may  render  you  the  hospitality  which  your 
tyrannous  laws  prevent  me  from  exercising  in  the 
ancestral  halls  of  my  own  race." 

I  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  as  a  tear  bedim- 
med  his  eye.     It  was,  then,  the  celebrated  colonel  of 


38 

the  Irish  Brigade  created  a  Marquis  by  NAPOLEON 
on  the  field  of  Austerlitz  ! 

"  Marquis,"  said  I,  "  the  country  which  disowns 
you  is  proud  of  you ;  but — ha  !  here,  if  I  mistake  not, 
comes  our  signal  to  advance."  And  in  fact  CAPTAIN 
VANDELEUR,  riding  up  through  the  shower  of  shot, 
asked  for  the  commander  of  the  detachment,  and 
bade  me  hold  myself  in  readiness  to  move  as  soon  as 
the  flank  companies  of  the  Ninety-ninth,  and  Sixty- 
sixth,  and  the  Grenadier  Brigade  of  the  German 
Legion  began  to  advance  up  the  echelon.  The  de 
voted  band  soon  arrived ;  JACK  BOWSER  heading  the 
Ninety-ninth,  (when  was  he  away  and  a  storming 
party  to  the  fore  ?),  and  the  gallant  POTZTAUSEND  with 
his  Hanoverian  veterans. 

The  second  rocket  flew  up. 

"  Forward,  Onety-oneth  !"  cried  I,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder.  "  Killaloo  boys,  follow  your  captain  !"  and 
with  a  shrill  hurray,  that  sounded  above  the  tremen 
dous  fire  from  the  fort,  we  sprung  up  the  steep; 
BOWSER,  with  the  brave  Ninety-ninth,  and  the  bold 
POTZTAUSEND,  keeping  well  up  with  us.  We  passed 
the  demilune,  we  passed  the  culverin,  bayonetting  the 
artillery-men  at  their  guns ;  we  advanced  across  the 
two  tremendous  demilunes  which  flank  the  counter 
scarp,  and  prepared  for  the  final  spring  upon  the  cit 
adel.  SOULT  I  could  see  quite  pale  on  the  wall ;  and 
the  scoundrel  CAMBACERES,  who  had  been  so  nearly 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  39 


my  prisoner  that  day,  trembled  as  he  cheered  his 
men.  "  On  boys,  on !"  I  hoarsely  exclaimed.  "  Hur- 
roo,"  said  the  fighting  Onety-oneth. 

But  there  was  a  movement  among  the  enemy.  An 
officer,  glittering  with  orders,  and  another  in  a  grey 
coat  and  a  cocked  hat,  came  to  the  wall,  and  I  recog 
nised  the  EMPEROR  NAPOLEON  and  the  famous  JOA 
CHIM  MURAT. 

"  We  are  hardly  pressed,  methinks,"  NAPOLEON 
said,  sternly.  "  I  must  exercise  my  old  trade  as  an 
artillery-man;"  and  MURAT  loaded,  and  the  EMPEROR 
pointed  the  only  hundred-and-twenty-four  pounder 
that  had  not  been  silenced  by  our  fire. 

"  Hurray,  Killaloo  boys  !"  shouted  I.  The  next 
moment  a  sensation  of  numbness  and  death  seized 
me,  and  I  lay  like  a  corpse  upon  the  rampart. 


II. 


"  HUSH  !"  said  a  voice,  which  I  recognised  to  be  that 
of  the  MARQUIS  DE  MAHONY.  "Heaven  be  praised, 
reason  has  returned  to  you.  For  six  weeks  those 
are  the  only  sane  words  I  have  heard  from  you." 

"  Faix,  and  'tis  thrue  for  you,  Colonel  dear,"  cried 
another  voice,  with  which  I  was  even  more  familiar ; 
'twas  that  of  my  honest  and  gallant  LANTY  CLANCY, 
who  was  blubbering  at  my  bedside,  overjoyed  at  his 
master's  recovery. 


40  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

"  0  musha  !  MASTHER  PHIL.  Agrah  !  but  this  will 
be  the  great  day  intirely,  when  I  send  off  the  news, 
which  I  would,  barrin'  I  can't  write,  to  the  lady, 
your  mother,  and  your  sisters,  at  Castle  Fogarty ; 
and  'tis  his  Riv'rence  FATHER  LUKE  will  jump  for  joy 
thin,  when  he  reads  the  letthur !  Six  weeks  ravin' 
and  roarin'  as  bould  as  a  lion,  and  as  mad  as  MICK 
MALONY'S  pig,  that  mistuck  MICK'S  wig  for  a  cabbage, 
and  died  of  atin'  it !  " 

"  And  have  I  then  lost  my  senses  ?  "  I  exclaimed 
feebly. 

"  Sure,  didn't  ye  call  me  your  beautiful  DONNA 
ANNA  only  yesterday,  and  catch  hould  of  me  whiskers 
as  if  they  were  the  Signora's  jet  black  ringlets  ? " 
LANTY  cried. 

At  this  moment,  and  blushing  deeply,  the  most 
beautiful  young  creature  I  ever  set  my  eyes  upon, 
rose  from  a  chair  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  sailed 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Confusion  !  you  blundering  rogue,' '  I  cried,  "who 
is  that  lovely  lady  whom  you  frightened  away  by 
your  impertinence.  DONNA  ANNA?  Where  am  I?" 

"  You  are  in  good  hands,  PHILIP,"  said  the  Col 
onel;  "you  are  at  my  house  in  the  Place  Yendome, 
at  Paris,  of  which  I  am  the  Military  Governor.  You 
and  LANTY  were  knocked  down  by  the  wind  of  the 
cannon-ball  at  Burgos.  Do  not  be  ashamed :  'twas 
the  EMPEROR  pointed  the  gun  ;"  and  the  Colonel  took 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  41 


off  his  hat  as  lie  mentioned  the  name  darling  to 
France.  "  When  our  troops  returned  from  the  sally 
in  which  your  gallant  storming  party  was  driven  back, 
you  were  found  on  the  glacis,  and  I  had  you  brought 
into  the  city.  Your  reason  had  left  you.  however, 
when  you  returned  to  life ;  but,  unwilling  to  desert 
the  son  of  my  old  friend,  PHILIP  FOGARTY,  who  saved 
my  life  in  '98,  I  brought  you  in  my  carriage  to 
Paris." 

"  And  many's  the  time  you  tried  to  jump  out  of 
the  windy,  MASTHER  PHIL,"  said  CLANCY. 

"  Brought  you  to  Paris,"  resumed  the  Colonel, 
smiling ;  "  where,  by  the  soins  of  my  friends  BROUS- 
SAIS,  ESQUIROL,  and  BARON  LARREY,  you  have  been 
restored  to  health,  thank  Heaven  !" 

"And  that  lovely  angel  who  quitted  the  apart 
ment  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  That  lovely  angel  is  the  LADY  BLANCHE  SARS- 
FIELD,  my  ward,  a  descendant  of  the  gallant  LUCAN, 
and  who  may  be,  when  she  chooses,  MADAME  LA  MA- 

RECHALE  DE  CAMBACERES,  DlJCHESS  OF  ILLYRIA." 

"  Why  did  you  deliver  the  ruffian  when  he  was  in 
my  grasp  ?  "  I  cried. 

"Why  did  LANTY  deliver  you  when  in  mine?" 
the  Colonel  replied.  "C'est  la  fortune  de  la  guerre, 
mon  gargon ;  but  calm  yourself,  and  take  this  potion 
which  BLANCHE  has  prepared  for  you." 

I  drank  the  tisane  eagerly  when  I  heard  whose 


42  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

fair  hands  had  compounded  it,  and  its  effects  were 
speedily  beneficial  to  me,  for  I  sank  into  a  cool  and 
refreshing  slumber. 

From  that  day  I  began  to  mend  rapidly,  with  all 
the  elasticity  of  youth's  happy  time.  BLANCHE — the 
enchanting  BLANCHE — ministered  henceforth  to  me, 
for  I  would  take  no  medicine  but  from  her  lily  hand. 
And  what  were  the  effects?  Faith,  ere  a  month 
was  past,  the  patient  was  over  head  and  ears  in  love 
with  the  doctor;  and  as  for  BARON  LARREY,  and 
BROUSSAIS,  and  ESQUIROL,  they  were  sent  to  the 
right-about.  In  a  short  time  I  was  in  a  situation  to 
do  justice  to  the  gigot  aux  navels,  the  b&uf  aux 
cornichons,  and  the  other  delicious  entremets  of  the 
Marquis's  board,  with  an  appetite  that  astonished 
some  of  the  Frenchmen  who  frequented  it. 

"  Wait  till  he's  quite  well,  Miss,"  said  LANTY,  who 
waited  always  behind  me.  "  Faith !  when  he's  in 
health,  I'd  back  him  to  ate  a  cow,  barrin'  the  horns 
and  teel."  I  sent  a  decanter  at  the  rogue's  head,  by 
way  of  answer  to  his  impertinence. 

Although  the  disgusting  CAMBACERES  did  his  best 
to  have  my  parole  withdrawn  from  me,  and  to  cause 
me  to  be  sent  to  the  English  dep6t  of  prisoners  at 
Verdun,  the  Marquis's  interest  with  the  EMPEROR 
prevailed,  and  I  was  allowed  to  remain  at  Paris,  the 
happiest  of  prisoners  at  the  Colonel's  hotel  at  the 
Place  Vend6me.  I  here  had  the  opportunity  (an  op- 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  43 


portunity  not  lost,  I  flatter  myself,  on  a  young  fellow 
with  the  accomplishments  of  PHILIP  FOGARTY,  ESQ.) 
of  mixing  with  the  (lite  of  French  society,  and  meet 
ing  with  many  of  the  great,  the  beautiful,  and  the 
"brave.  TALLEYRAND  was  a  frequent  guest  of  the 
Marquis's.  His  bon-mots  used  to  keep  the  table  in 
a  roar.  NET  frequently  took  his  chop  with  us ; 
MURAT,  when  in  town,  constantly  dropt  in  for  a  cup 
of  tea  and  friendly  round  game.  Alas  !  who  would 
have  thought  those  two  gallant  heads  would  be  so 
soon  laid  low  ?  My  wife  has  a  pair  of  ear-rings  which 
the  latter,  who  always  wore  them,  presented  to  her — 
but  we  are  advancing  matters.  Anybody  could  see, 
" avec  un  demi-ceil"  as  the  PRINCE  OF  BENEVENT  re 
marked,  how  affairs  went  between  me  and  BLANCHE  ; 
but  though  she  loathed  him  for  his  cruelties  and  the 
odiousness  of  his  person,  the  brutal  CAMBACERES  still 
pursued  his  designs  upon  her. 

I  recollect,  it  was  on  ST.  PATRICK'S  Day.  My 
loyely  friend  had  procured,  from  the  gardens  of  the 
EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE,  at  Malmaison,  (whom  we  loved 
a  thousand  times  more  than  her  Austrian  successor,  a 
sandy-haired  woman,  between  ourselves,  wittr  an 
odious  squint,)  a  quantity  of  shamrock  wherewith  to 
garnish  the  hotel,  and  all  the  Irish  in  Paris  were  in 
vited  to  the  national  festival. 

I  and  PRINCE  TALLEYRAND  danced  a  double  horn 
pipe  with  PAULINE  BONAPARTE  and  MADAME  DE 


44 

STAEL  ;  MARSHAL  SOULT  went  down  a  couple  of  sets 
with  MADAME  RECAMIER  ;  and  ROBESPIERRE'S  widow 
— an  excellent,  gentle  creature,  quite  unlike  her  hus 
band — stood  up  with  the  AUSTRIAN  AMBASSADOR. 
Besides,  the  famous  artists  BARON  GROS,  DAVID  and 
NICHOLAS  POUSSIN,  and  CANOVA,  who  was  in  town 
making  a  statue  of  the  Emperor,  for  LEO  X.,  and  in  a 
word  all  the  celebrities  of  Paris — as  my  gifted  coun 
trywoman,  the  wild  Irish  girl,  calls  them — were  as 
sembled  in  the  Marquis's  elegant  receiving-rooms. 

At  last  a  great  outcry  was  raised  for  La  Gigue 
Irlandaise !  La  Gigue  Irlandaise !  a  dance  which 
had  made  fureur  amongst  the  Parisians  ever  since  the 
lovely  BLANCHE  SARSFIELD  had  danced  it.  She  step 
ped  forward  and  took  me  for  a  partner,  and  amidst 
the  bravos  of  the  crowd,  in  which  stood  NEY,  MURAT, 
LANNES,  the  PRINCE  OF  WAGRAM,  and  the  AUSTRIAN 
AMBASSADOR,  we  showed  to  the  beau  monde  of  the 
French  capital,  I  flatter  myself,  a  not  unfavourable 
specimen  of  the  dance  of  our  country. 

As  I  was  cutting  the  double-shuffle,  and  toe-and- 
heeling  it  in  the  "  rail "  style,  BLANCHE  danced  up  to 
me,  smiling,  and  said,  "  Be  on  your  guard  ;  I  see  CAM- 
BACERES  talking  to  FOUCHE  the  Duke  of  Otranto 
about  us — and  when  OTRANTO  turns  his  eyes  upon  a 
man,  they  bode  him  no  good." 

"  CAMBACERES  is  jealous,"  said  I.  "  I  have  it," 
says  she ;  "  I'll  make  him  dance  a  turn  with  me." 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  45 

So  presently,  as  the  music  was  going  like  mad  all 
this  time,  I  pretended  fatigue  from  my  late  wounds, 
and  sate  down  The  lovely  BLANCHE  went  up  smi 
ling,  and  brought  out  CAMBACERES  as  a  second 
partner. 

The  Marshal  is  a  lusty  man,  who  makes  des 
perate  efforts  to  give  himself  a  waist,  and  the  effect 
of  the  exercise  upon  him  was  speedily  visible.  He 
puffed  and  snorted  like  a  walrus,  drops  trickled  down 
his  purple  face,  while  my  lovely  mischief  of  a  BLANCHE 
went  on  dancing  at  treble  quick,  till  she  fairly  danced 
him  down. 

"  Who  '11  take  the  flure  with  me  ?  "  said  the  charm 
ing  girl,  animated  by  the  sport. 

"  Faix,  den,  'tis  I,  LANTY  CLANCY  !  "  cried  my 
rascal,  who  had  been  mad  with  excitement  at  the 
scene  ;  and,  stepping  in  with  a  whoop  and  a  hurroo, 
he  began  to  dance  with  such  a  rapidity  as  made  all 
present  stare. 

As  the  couple  were  footing  it,  there  was  a  noise 
as  of  a  rapid  cavalcade  traversing  the  Place  Vendome, 
and  stopping  at  the  Marquis's  door.  A  crowd  ap 
peared  to  mount  the  stair ;  the  great  doors  of  the 
reception-room  were  flung  open,  and  two  pages  an 
nounced  their  Majesties  the  Emperor  and  the  Em 
press.  So  engaged  were  LANTY  and  BLANCHE,  that 
they  never  heard  the  tumult  occasioned  by  the  august 
approach. 


46  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

It  was  indeed  the  Emperor  who,  returning  from 
the  Theatre  Franqais,  and  seeing  the  Marquis's  win 
dows  lighted  up,  proposed  to  the  Empress  to  drop  in 
on  the  party.  He  made  signs  to  the  musicians  to 
continue  :  and  the  conqueror  of  Marengo  and  Fried- 
land  watched  with  interest  the  simple  evolutions  of 
two  happy  Irish  people.  Even  the  Empress  smiled  ; 
and,  seeing  this,  all  the  courtiers,  including  NAPLES 
and  TALLEYRAND,  were  delighted. 

"  Is  not  this  a  great  day  for  Ireland  ? "  said  the 
Marquis,  with  a  tear  trickling  down  his  noble  face. 
"  0  Ireland  !  0  my  country !  But  no  more  of  that. 
Go  up,  PHIL,  you  divvle,  and  offer  her  Majesty  the 
choice  of  punch  or  negus." 

III. 

AMONG  the  young  fellows  with  whom  I  was  most 
intimate  in  Paris  was  EUGENE  BEAUHARNAIS,  the  son 
of  the  ill-used  and  unhappy  JOSEPHINE  by  her  former 
marriage  with  a  French  gentleman  of  good  family. 
Having  a  smack  of  the  old  blood  in  him,  EUGENE'S 
manners  were  much  more  refined  than  those  of  the 
new-fangled  dignitaries  of  the  EMPEROR'S  Court;  where 
(for  my  knife  and  fork  were  regularly  laid  at  the 
Tuileries)  I  have  seen  my  poor  friend  MURAT  re 
peatedly  mistake  a  fork  for  a  tooth-pick,  and  the  gal 
lant  MASSENA  devour  peas  by  means  of  his  knife,  in  a 


PHIL,    FOGARTY.  47 


way  more  innocent  than  graceful.  TALLEYRAND. 
EUGENE,  and  I,  used  often  to  laugh  at  these  eccentri 
cities  of  our  brave  friends,  who  certainly  did  not 
shine  in  the  drawing-room,  however  brilliant  they 
were  in  the  field  of  battle.  The  EMPEROR  always 
asked  me  to  take  wine  with  him.  and  was  full  of  kind 
ness  and  attention.  "  I  like  EUGENE  "  (he  would  say 
to  me,  pinching  my  ear  confidentially,  as  his  way  was,) 
— "  I  like  EUGENE  to  keep  company  with  such  young 
fellows  as  you  ;  you  have  manners  ;  you  have  princi 
ples  ;  my  rogues  from  the  camp  have  none.  And  I 
like  you,  PHILIP,  my  boy,"  he  added,  "  for  being  so 
attentive  to  my  poor  wife — the  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE, 
I  mean."  All  these  honours  made  my  friends  at  the 
Marquis's  very  proud,  and  my  enemies  at  Court  crever 
with  envy.  Among  these,  the  atrocious  CAMBACERES 
was  not  the  least  active  and  envenomed. 

The  cause  of  the  many  attentions  which  were 
paid  to  me,  and  which  like  a  vain  coxcomb,  I  had 
chosen  to  attribute  to  my  own  personal  amiability, 
soon  was  apparent.  Having  formed  a  good  opinion 
of  my  gallantry  from  my  conduct  in  various  actions 
and  forlorn  hopes  during  the  war.  the  EMPEROR  was 
most  anxious  to  attach  me  to  his  service.  The  grand 
Cross  of  St.  Louis,  the  title  of  Count,  the  command 
of  a  crack  cavalry  regiment,  the  14me  Chevaux 
Marins,  were  the  bribes  that  were  actually  offered  to 
me ;  and,  must  I  say  it !  BLANCHE,  the  lovely,  the 


48  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

perfidious  BLANCHE,  was  one  of  the  agents  employed 
to  tempt  me  to  commit  this  act  of  treason. 

"  Object  to  enter  a  foreign  service  !  "  she  said,  in 
reply  to  my  refusal.  "  It  is  you,  PHILIP,  who  are  in 
a  foreign  service.  The  Irish  nation  is  in  exile,  and 
in  the  territories  of  its  French  allies.  Irish  traitors 
are  not  here  ;  they  march  alone  under  the  accursed 
flag  of  the  Saxon,  whom  the  great  NAPOLEON  would 
have  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  but  for  the 
fatal  valour  of  Irish  mercenaries  !  Accept  this  offer, 
and  my  heart,  my  hand,  my  all  are  yours.  Refuse 
it,  PHILIP,  and  we  part." 

"  To  wed  the  abominable  CAMBACERES  !  "  I  cried, 
stung  with  rage.  "  To  wear  a  duchess's  coronet, 
BLANCHE  !  Ha,  ha  !  Mushrooms,  instead  of  straw 
berry-leaves,  should  decorate  the  brows  of  the  up 
start  French  nobility.  I  shall  withdraw  my  parole. 
I  demand  to  be  sent  to  prison — to  be  exchanged — to 
die — anything  rather  than  be  a  traitor,  and  the  tool 
of  a  traitress  !  "  Taking  up  my  hat,  I  left  the  room 
in  a  fury  ;  and  flinging  open  the  door,  tumbled  over 
CAMBACERES,  who  was  listening  at  the  key-hole,  and 
must  have  overheard  every  word  of  our  conversation. 

We  tumbled  over  each  other,  as  BLANCHE  was 
shrieking  with  laughter  at  our  mutual  discomfiture. 
Her  scorn  only  made  me  more  mad  ;  and,  having 
spurs  on,  I  began  digging  them  into  CAMBACERES'  fat 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  49 


sides  as  we  rolled  on  the  carpet,  until  the  Marshal 
howled  with  rage  and  anger. 

"  This  insult  must  be  avenged  with  blood  !  " 
roared  the  DUKE  OF  ILLYRIA. 

"  I  have  already  drawn  it,"  says  I,  "  with  my 
spurs." 

"  Malheur  et  malediction  !  "  roared  the  Marshal. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  settle  your  wig  ?  "  says  I, 
offering  it  to  him  on  the  tip  of  my  cane,  "  and  we'll 
arrange  time  and  place  when  you  have  put  your  jasey 
in  order."  I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of  revenge 
which  he  cast  at  me,  as  I  was  thus  turning  him  into 
ridicule  before  his  mistress. 

"  LADY  BLANCHE,"  I  continued  bitterly,  "  as  you 
look  to  share  the  Duke's  coronet,  hadn't  you  better 
see  to  his  wig  ?  "  and  so  saying,  I  cocked  my  hat,  and 
walked  out  of  the  Marquis's  place,  whistling  "  Garry- 
owen." 

I  knew  my  man  would  not  be  long  in  following 
me,  and  waited  for  him  in  the  Place  Vendome,  where 
I  luckily  met  EUGENE  too,  who  was  looking  at  the 
picture-shop  in  the  corner.  I  explained  to  him  my 
affair  in  a  twinkling.  He  at  once  agreed  to  go  with 
me  to  the  ground,  and  commended  me,  rather  than 
otherwise,  for  refusing  the  offer  which  had  been  made 
to  me.  "  I  knew  it  would  be  so,"  he  said,  kindly ; 
"  I  told  my  father  you  wouldn't.  A  man  with  the 
blood  of  the  FOGARTIES,  PHIL,  my  boy,  doesn't  wheel 


50  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

about  like  those  fellows  of  yesterday."  So,  when 
CAMBACERES  came  out,  which  he  did  presently,  with 
a  more  furious  air  than  before,  I  handed  him  at  once 
over  to  EUGENE,  who  begged  him  to  name  a  friend, 
and  an  early  hour  for  the  meeting  to  take  place. 

"  Can  you  make  it  before  eleven,  PHIL  ? ''  said 
BEAUHARNAIS.  "  The  EMPEROR  reviews  the  troops  in 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  at  that  hour,  and  we  might 
fight  there  handy  before  the  review." 

"  Done  !  "  said  I,  "  I  want  of  all  things  to  see 
the  newly-arrived  Saxon  cavalry  manoeuvre : }>  on 
which  CAMBACERES  gave  me  a  look,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  See  Sights !  Watch  Cavalry  manoeuvres ! 
Make  your  soul,  and  take  measure  for  a  coffin,  my 
boy ! "  walked  away,  naming  our  mutual  acquaint 
ance,  MARSHAL  NET,  to  EUGENE,  as  his  second  in 
the  business. 

I  had  purchased  from  MURAT  a  very  fine  Irish 
horse,  Bugaboo,  out  of  Smithereens,  by  Fadladeen, 
which  ran  into  the  French  ranks  at  Salamanca,  with 
poor  JACK  CLONAKILTY,  of  the  13th,  dead,  on  the 
top  of  him.  Bugaboo  was  too  much  and  too  ugly  an 
animal  for  the  KING  OF  NAPLES,  who,  though  a 
showy  horseman,  was  a  bad  rider  across  country ;  and 
I  got  the  horse  for  a  song.  A  wickeder  and  uglier 
brute  never  wore  pig-skin  ;  and  I  never  put  my  leg 
over  such  a  timber -jumper  in  my  life.  I  rode  the 
horse  down  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  on  the  morning 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  51 


that  the  affair  with  CAMBACERES  was  to  come  off,  and 
LANTY  held  him  as  I  went  in,  "  sure  to  win,"  as  they 
say  in  the  ring. 

CAMBACERES  was  known  to  be  the  best  shot  in 
the  French  army ;  but  I,  who  am  a  pretty  good  hand 
at  a  snipe,  thought  a  man  was  bigger,  and  that  I 
could  wing  him  if  I  had  a  mind.  As  soon  as  NEY 
gave  the  word,  we  both  fired :  I  felt  a  whizz  past  my 
left  ear,  and  putting  up  my  hand  there,  found  a  large 
piece  of  my  whiskers  gone ;  whereas  at  the  same 
moment,  and  shrieking  a  horrible  malediction,  my  ad 
versary  reeled  and  fell. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  il  est  mort ! "  cried  NEY. 

"  Pas  de  tout?  "said  BEAUHARNAIS.  "  Ecoute ;  U 
jure  toujours" 

And  such,  indeed,  was  the  fact :  the  supposed 
dead  man  lay  on  the  ground  cursing  most  frightfully. 
We  went  up  to  him :  he  was  blind  with  the  loss 
of  blood,  and  my  ball  had  carried  off  the  bridge  of 
his  nose.  He  recovered  ;  but  he  was  always  called 
the  Prince  of  Ponterotto  in  the  French  army,  after 
wards.  The  surgeon  in  attendance  having  taken 
charge  of  this  unfortunate  warrior,  we  rode  off  to  the 
review,  where  NEY  and  EUGENE  were  on  duty  at  the 
head  of  their  respective  divisions,  and  where,  by  the 
way,  CAMBACERES,  as  the  French  say,  "  se  faisait 
dtsirer." 

It  was  arranged  that  CAMBACERES'  division  of 


52  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

six  battalions  and  nine-and-twenty  squadrons  should 
execute  a  ricochet  movement,  supported  by  artillery  in 
the  intervals,  and  converging  by  different  epaulements 
on  the  light  infantry,  that  formed,  as  usual,  the  centre 
of  the  line.  It  was  by  this  famous  monoeuvre  that  at 
Arcola,  at  Montenotte,  at  Friedland,  and  subsequently 
at  Mazagran,  SUWAROFF,  PRINCE  CHARLES,  and 
GENERAL  CASTANOS  were  defeated  with  such  victo 
rious  slaughter  :  but  it  is  a  movement  which,  I  need 
not  tell  every  military  man,  requires  the  greatest 
delicacy  of  execution,  and  which,  if  it  fails,  plunges 
an  army  info  confusion. 

"  Where  is  the  DUKE  OF  ILLYRIA  ?  "  NAPOLEON 
asked.  "  At  the  head  of  his  division,  no  doubt,"  said 
MURAT  :  at  which  EUGENE,  giving  me  an  arch  look, 
put  his  hand  to  his  nose,  and  caused  me  almost  to  fall 
off  my  horse  with  laughter.  NAPOLEON  looked 
sternly  at  me  ;  but  at  this  moment  the  troops  getting 
in  motion,  the  celebrated  manoeuvre  began,  and  His 
Majesty's  attention  was  taken  off  from  my  impudence. 

MILHAUD'S  Dragoons,  their  bands  playing  Vive 
Henri  Quatre,  their  cuirasses  gleaming  in  the  sun 
shine,  moved  upon  their  own  centre  from  the  left 
flank  in  the  most  brilliant  order,  while  the  Carbineers 
of  FOY,  and  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Guard  under 
DROUET  D'ERLON,  executed  a  carambolade  on  the 
right,  with  the  precision  which  became  those  veteran 
troops ;  but  the  Chasseurs  of  the  young  guard,  march- 


PHIL.    FOGARTY.  53 


ing  by  twos  instead  of  threes,  bore  consequently 
upon  the  Bavarian  Uhlans  (an  ill-disciplined  and  ill- 
affected  body),  and  then,  falling  back  in  disorder,  be 
came  entangled  with  the  artillery  and  the  left  centre 
of  the  line,  and  in  one  instant  thirty  thousand  men 
were  in  inextricable  confusion.' 

"  Clubbed,  by  Jabers  !"  roared  out  LANTY  CLANCY. 
"I  wish  we  could  show  'em  the  Fighting  Onety- 
oneth,  Captain,  darling." 

"  Silence,  fe"llow  !  "  I  exclaimed.  I  never  saw 
the  face  of  man  express  passion  so  vividly  as  now  did 
the  livid  countenance  of  NAPOLEON.  He  tore  off 
GENERAL  MILHAUD'S  epaulettes,  which  he  flung  into 
FOY'S  face.  He  glared  about  him  wildly  like  a 
demon,  and  shouted  hoarsely  for  the  DUKE  OF  ILLY- 
RIA.  "  He  is  wounded,  Sire,11  said  G-ENERAL  FOY, 
wiping  a  tear  from  his  eye,  which  was  blackened  by 
the  force  of  the  blow  ;  "  he  was  wounded  an  hour 
hence  in  a  duel,  Sire,  by  a  young  English  prisoner, 
MONSIEUR  DE  FOGARTY." 

"  Wounded !  a  Marshal  of  France  wounded ! 
Where  is  the  Englishman?  Bring  him  out,  and 
let  a  file  of  grenadiers  " — 

"  Sire  !  "  interposed  EUGENE. 

"  Let  him  be  shot !"  shrieked  the  EMPEROR,  shak 
ing  his  spy-glass  at  me  with  the  fury  of  a  fiend. 

This  was  too  much.  "  Here  goes  !"  said  I,  and 
rode  slap  at  him. 


54  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

There  was  a  shriek  of  terror  from  the  whole  of 
the  French  army,  and  I  should  think  at  least  forty 
thousand  guns  were  levelled  at  me  in  an  instant. 
But  as  the  muskets  were  not  loaded,  and  the  cannon 
had  only  wadding  in  them,  these  facts,  I  presume, 
saved  the  life  of  PHIL  FOGARTY  from  this  discharge. 

Knowing  my  horse,  I  put  him  at  the  EMPEROR'S 
head,  and  Bugaboo  went  at  it  like  a  shot.  He  was 
riding  his  famous  white  Arab,  and  turned  quite  pale 
as  I  came  up  and  went  over  the  horse  and  the  EM 
PEROR,  scarcely  brushing  the  cockade  which  he  wore. 

"  Bravo  !  "  said  MURAT,  bursting  into  enthusiasm 
at  the  leap. 

"  Cut  him  down  ! "  said  SIEYES,  once  an  Abbe, 
but  now  a  gigantic  Cuirassier  ;  and  he  made  a  pass  at 
me  with  his  sword.  But  he  little  knew  an  Irishman 
on  an  Irish  horse.  Bugaboo  cleared  SIEYES,  and 
fetched  the  monster  a  slap  with  his  near  hind  hoof 
which  sent  him  reeling  from  his  saddle, — and  away  I 
went,  with  an  army  of  a  hundred-and-seventy-thrco 
thousand  eight  hundred  men  at  my  heels.  ***** 


BARBAZURE. 

BY   G.   P.  E.  JEAMES,   ESQ.,  ETC. 


IT  was  upon  one  of  those  balmy  evenings  of  No 
vember  which  are  only  known  in  the  valleys  of  Lan- 
guedoc  and  among  the  mountains  of  Alsace,  that  two 
cavaliers  might  have  been  perceived  by  the  naked  eye 
threading  one  of  the  rocky  and  romantic  gorges  that 
skirt  the  mountain-land  between  the  Marne  and  the 
Garonne.  The  rosy  tints  of  the  declining  luminary 
were  gilding  the  peaks  and  crags  which  lined  the 
path,  through  which  the  horsemen  wound  slowly ; 
and  as  those  eternal  battlements  with  which  Nature 
had  hemmed  in  the  ravine  which  our  travellers  trod, 
blushed  with  the  last  tints  of  the  fading  sunlight,  the 
valley  below  was  grey  and  darkling,  and  the  hard  and 
devious  course  was  sombre  in  twilight.  A  few  goats, 
hardly  visible  among  the  peaks,  were  cropping  the 
scanty  herbage  here  and  there.  The  pipes  of  shep 
herds,  calling  in  their  flocks  as  they  trooped  home 
wards  to  their  mountain  villages,  sent  up  plaintive 
echoes  which  moaned  through  those  rocky  and  lonely 


56 

steeps ;  the  stars  began  to  glimmer  in  the  purple 
heavens,  spread  serenely  over  head ;  and  the  faint 
crescent  of  the  moon,  which  had  peered  for  some  time 
scarce  visible  in  the  azure,  gleamed  out  more  bril 
liantly  at  every  moment,  until  it  blazed  as  if  in 
triumph  at  the  sun's  retreat.  'Tis  a  fair  land  that  of 
France,  a  gentle,  a  green,  and  a  beautiful ;  the  home 
of  arts  and  arms,  of  chivalry  and  romance,  and  (how 
ever  sadly  stained  by  the  excesses  of  modern  times) 
'twas  the  unbought  grace  of  nations  once,  and  the  seat 
of  ancient  renown  and  disciplined  valour. 

And  of  all  that  fair  land  of  France,  whose  beauty 
is  so  bright,  and  bravery  so  famous,  there  is  no  spot 
greener  or  fairer  than  that  one  over  which  our  trav 
ellers  wended,  and  which  stretches  between  the  good 
towns  of  Yendemiaire  and  Nivose.  'Tis  common 
now  to  a  hundred  thousand  voyagers  :  the  English 
tourist,  with  his  chariot  and  his  HARVEY'S  Sauce,  and 
his  imperials  ;  the  bustling  commis-voyageur  on  the 
roof  of  the  rumbling  diligence ;  the  rapid  matte-poste 
thundering  over  the  chausste  at  twelve  miles  an  hour 
— pass  the  ground  hourly  and  daily  now :  'twas  lone 
ly  and  unfrequented  at  the  end  of  that  seventeenth 
century  with  which  our  story  commences. 

Along  the  darkening  mountain  paths  the  two 
gentlemen  (for  such  their  outward  bearing  proclaim 
ed  them)  caracolled  together.  The  one,  seemingly 
the  younger  of  the  twain,  wore  a  flaunting  feather  in 


BARB AZURE.  57 


his  barret-cap,  and  managed  a  prancing  Andalusian 
palfrey  that  bounded  and  curvetted  gaily.  A  surcoat 
of  peach-coloured  samite  and  a  purfled  doublet  of  vair 
bespoke  hid  noble,  as  did  his  brilliant  eye,  his  ex 
quisitely  chiselled  nose,  and  his  curling  chestnut 
ringlets. 

Youth  was  on  his  brow ;  his  eyes  were  dark  and 
dewy,  like  spring-violets  ;  and  spring-roses  bloomed 
upon  his  cheek — roses,  alas  !  that  bloom  and  die  with 
life's  spring  !  Now  bounding  over  a  rock,  now  play 
fully  whisking  off  with  his  riding-rod  a  flowret  in  his 
path.  PHILIBERT  DE  COQUELICOT  rode  by  his  darker 
companion. 

His  comrade  was  mounted  upon  a  destridre  of  the 
true  Norman  breed,  that  had  first  champed  grass  on 
the  green  pastures  of  Acquitaine.  Thence  through 
Berry,  Picardy,  and  the  Limousin,  halting  at  many  a 
city  and  commune,  holding  joust  and  tourney  in  many 
a  castle  and  manor  of  Navarre,  Poitou,  and  St.  Ger 
main  1'Auxerrois,  the  warrior  and  his  charger  reached 
the  lonely  spot  where  now  we  find  them. 

The  warrior  who  bestrode  the  noble  beast  was  in 
sooth  worthy  of  the  steed  which  bore  him.  Both 
were  caparisoned  in  the  fullest  trappings  of  feudal 
war.  The  arblast,  the  mangonel,  the  demiculverin, 
and  the  cuissart  of  the  period,  glittered  upon  the 
neck  and  chest  of  the  war-steed ;  while  the  rider,  with 
chamfron  and  catapult,  with  ban  and  arriere-ban, 

3* 


58  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

morion  and  tumbril,  battle-axe  and  rifflard,  and  the 
other  appurtenances  of  ancient  chivalry,  rode  stately 
on  his  steel-clad  charger,  himself  a  tower  of  steel. 
This  mighty  horseman  was  carried  by  his  steed  as 
lightly  as  the  young  springald  by  his  Andalusian 
hackney. 

"'Twas  well  done  of  thee,  PHILIBERT;"  said  he  of 
the  proof-armour,  "  to  ride  forth  so  far  to  welcome 
thy  cousin  and  companion  in  arms." 

"  Companion  in  battledoor  and  shuttlecock,  Ro- 
MANE  DE  CLOS-VOUGEOT  !"  replied  the  younger  Cava 
lier.  "  When  I  was  yet  a  page,  thou  wert  a  belted 
knight ;  and  thou  wert  away  to  the  Crusades  ere  ever 
my  beard  grew." 

"  I  stood  by  RICHARD  of  England  at  the  gates  of 
Ascalon,  and  drew  the  spear  from  sainted  KING  Louis 
in  the  tents  of  Damietta,"  the  individual  addressed 
as  ROMANE  replied.  "Well-a-day!  since  thy  beard 
grew,  boy,  (and  marry  'tis  yet  a  thin  one,)  I  have  broken 
a  lance  with  SOLYMAN  at  Rhodes,  and  smoked  a  chi 
bouque  with  SALADIN  at  Acre.  But  enough  of  this. 
Tell  me  of  home — of  our  native  valley — of  my 
hearth,  and  my  lady  mother,  and  my  good  chaplain — 
tell  me  of  her,  PHILIBERT,"  said  the  knight,  executing 
a  demivolte,  in  order  to  hide  his  emotion. 

PHILIBERT  seemed  uneasy,  and  to  strive  as  though 
he  would  parry  the  question.  "  The  castle  stands  on 
the  rock,"  he  said,  "  and  the  swallows  still  build  in 


BARBAZURE.  59 


the  battlements.  The  good  chaplain  still  chants  his 
vespers  at  morn,  and  snuffles  his  matins  at  even-song. 
The  lady-mother  still  distributeth  tracts,  and  knitteth 
Berlin  linsey-woolsey.  The  tenants  pay  no  better, 
and  the  lawyers  dun  as  sorely,  kinsman  mine,"  he 
added  with  an  arch  look. 

"  But  FATIMA,  FATIMA,  how  fares  she  ?  "  BOMANE 
continued — "Since  Lammas  was  a  twelvemonth,  I 
hear  nought  of  her ;  my  letters  are  unanswered.  The 
postman  hath  traversed  our  camp  every  day,  and 
never  brought  me  a  billet.  How  is  FATIMA,  PHILI- 

BERT  DE  COQUELICOT?" 

"  She  is — well,"  PHILIBERT  replied ;  "  her  sister 
ANNE  is  the  fairest  of  the  twain,  though:" 

"  Her  sister  ANNE  was  a  baby  when  I  embarked 
for  Egypt.  A  plague  on  sister  ANNE  !  Speak  of  FA 
TIMA,  PHILIBERT — my  blue-eyed  FATIMA  ! " 

"I  say  she  is — well,"  answered  his  comrade, 
gloomily. 

"Is  she  dead?  Is  she  ill?  Hath  she  the  mea 
sles?  Nay,  hath  she  had  small-pox,  and  lost  her 
beauty?  Speak!  speak,  boy!"  cried  the  knight, 
wrought  to  agony. 

"  Her  cheek  is  as  red  as  her  mother's,  though  the 
old  Countess  paints  hers  every  day.  Her  foot  is  as 
light  as  a  sparrow's,  and  her  voice  as  sweet  as  a 
minstrel's  dulcimer ;  but  give  me  nathless  the  LADY 
ANNE,"  cried  PHILIBERT,  "  give  me  the  peerless  LADY 


60  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

ANNE  !  As  soon  as  ever  I  have  won  spurs,  I  will  ride 
all  Christendom  through,  and  proclaim  her  the  Queen 
of  Beauty.  Ho,  LADY  ANNE  !  LADY  ANNE  ! "  and  so 
saying — but  evidently  wishing  to  disguise  some  emo 
tion,  or  conceal  some  tale  his  friend  could  ill  brook 
to  hear — the  reckless  damoiseau  galloped  wildly  for 
ward. 

But  swift  as  was  his  courser's  pace,  that  of  his 
companion's  enormous  charger  was  swifter.  "Boy," 
said  the  elder,  "thou  hast  ill  tidings.  I  know  it  by 
thy  glance.  Speak  :  shall  he  who  hath  bearded  grim 
Death  in  a  thousand  fields  shame  to  face  truth  from 
a  friend  ?  Speak,  in  the  name  of  Heaven  and  good 
SAINT  BOTIB^L.  ROMANE  DE  CLOS-YOUGEOT  will  bear 
your  tidiings  like  a  man  ! " 

"  FATIMA  is  well,"  answered  PHILIBERT  once  again; 
:  she  hath  had  no  measles:  she  lives  and  is  still 
fair." 

"  Fair,  aye,  peerless  fair ;  but  what  more,  PHILI 
BERT  ?  Not  false  ?  By  SAINT  BOTIBOL,  say  not  false," 
groaned  the  elder  warrior. 

"  A  month  syne,"  PHILIBERT  replied,  "  she  married 
the  BARON  DE  BARBAZURE." 

With  that  scream  which  is  so  terrible  in  a  strong 
man  in  agony,  the  brave  knight  ROMANE  DE  CLOS- 
VOUGEOT  sank  back  at  the  words,  and  fell  from  his 
charger  to  the  ground,  a  lifeless  mass  of  steel. 


BARBAZURE.  61 


II. 


LIKE  many  another  fabric  of  feudal  war  and  splen 
dour,  the  once  vast  and  magnificent  Castle  of  Barbazure 
is  now  a  moss-grown  ruin.  The  traveller  of  the  present 
day,  who  wanders  by  the  banks  of  the  silvery  Loire, 
and  climbs  the  steep  on  which  the  magnificent  edifice 
stood,  can  scarcely  trace,  among  the  shattered  masses 
of  ivy-covered  masonry  which  lie  among  the  lonely 
crags,  even  the  skeleton  of  the  proud  and  majestic 
palace-stronghold  of  the  Barons  of  Barbazure. 

In  the  days  of  our  tale  its  turrets  and  pinnacles 
rose  as  stately,  and  seemed  (to  the  pride  of  sinful 
man !)  as  strong  as  the  eternal  rocks  on  which  they 
stood.  The  three  mullets  on  a  gules  wavy  reversed, 
surmounted  by  the  sinople  couchant  Or ;  the  well- 
known  cognizance  of  the  house,  blazed  in  gorgeous 
heraldry  on  a  hundred  banners,  surmounting  as  many 
towers.  The  long  lines  of  battlemented  walls  spread 
down  the  mountain  to  the  Loire,  and  were  defended 
by  thousands  of  steel-clad  serving-men.  Four  hun 
dred  knights  and  six  times  as  many  archers  fought 
round  the  banner  of  BARBAZURE  at  Bouvines,  Malpla- 
quet,  and  Azincour.  For  his  services  at  Fontenoy 
against  the  English,  the  heroic  CHARLES  MARTEL 
appointed  the  fourteenth  Baron  Hereditary  Grand 
Bootjack  of  the  kingdom  of  France  ;  and  for  wealth, 


62  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

for  splendour,  and  for  skill  and  fame  in  war,  RAOUL 
the  twenty-eighth  Baron,  was  in  no  wise  inferior  to  his 
noble  ancestors. 

That  the  BARON  RAOUL  levied  toll  upon  the  river, 
and  mail  upon  the  shore ;  that  he  now  and  then  ran 
somed  a  burgher,  plundered  a  neighbour,  or  drew  the 
fangs  of  a  Jew ;  that  he  burned  an  enemy's  castle 
with  the  wife  and  children  within  ; — these  were  points 
for  which  the  country  knew  and  respected  the  stout 
Baron.  When  he  returned  from  victory,  he  was  sure 
to  endow  the  Church  with  a  part  of  his  spoil,  so  that 
when  he  went  forth  to  battle  he  was  always  accompa* 
nied  by  her  blessing.  Thus  lived  the  BARON  RAOUL, 
the  pride  of  the  country  in  which  he  dwelt,  an  orna 
ment  to  the  Court,  the  Church,  and  his  neighbours. 

But  in  the  midst  of  all  his  power  and  splendour 
there  was  a  domestic  grief  which  deeply  afflicted  the 
princely  BARBAZURE.  His  lovely  ladies  died  one 
after  the  other.  No  sooner  was  he  married  than  he 
was  a  widower ;  in  the  course  of  eighteen  years  no  less 
than  nine  bereavements  had  befallen  the  chieftain. 
So  true  it  is,  that  if  fortune  is  a  parasite,  grief  is  a 
republican,  and  visits  the  hall  of  the  great  and 
wealthy  as  it  does  the  humbler  tenements  of  the 

poor. 

********* 

"  Leave  off  deploring  thy  faithless,  gad-about  lov 
er,"  said  the  Lady  of  Chacabacque  to  her  daughter, 


BARBAZURE.  63 


the  lovely  FATIMA,  "  and  think  how  the  noble  BARBA 
ZURE  loves  thee  !  Of  all  the  damsels  at  the  ball  last 
night,  he  had  eyes  for  thee  and  thy  cousin  only." 

"  I  am  sure  my  cousin  hath  no  good  looks  to  be 
proud  of!"  the  admirable  FATIMA  exclaimed, bridling 
up.  "  Not  that  I  care  for  my  LORD  OF  BARBAZURE'S 
looks.  My  heart,  dearest  mother,  is  with  him  who 
is  far  away  ! " 

"  He  danced  with  thee  four  galliards,  nine  quad 
rilles,  and  twenty-three  corantoes,  I  think,  child,"  the 
mother  said,  eluding  her  daughter's  remark. 

"  Twenty-five,"  said  lovely  FATIMA,  casting  her 
beautiful  eyes  to  the  ground.  "Heigh-ho!  but  B-o- 
MANE  danced  them  very  well !  " 

"He  had  not  the  court  air,"  the  mother  sug 
gested. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  deny  the  beauty  of  the  LORD  OF 
BARBAZURE'S  dancing,  Mamma,"  FATIMA  replied. 
"  For  a  short,  lusty  man,  'tis  wondrous  how  active  he 
is ;  and  in  dignity  the  King's  Grace  himself  could 
not  surpass  him." 

"  You  were  the  noblest  couple  in  the  room,  love." 
the  lady  cried. 

"  That  pea-green  doublet,  slashed  with  orange- 
tawney,  those  ostrich  plumes,  blue,  red,  and  yellow, 
those  parti-coloured  hose  and  pink  shoon  became  the 
noble  Baron  wondrous  well,"  FATIMA  acknowledged. 
"  It  must  be  confessed  that,  though  middle-aged,  he 


64 

hath  all  the  agility  of  youth.  But,  alas !  Madam  ! 
The  noble  Baron  hath  had  nine  wives  already." 

"  And  your  cousin  would  give  her  eyes  to  become 
the  tenth,"  the  mother  replied. 

"  My  cousin  give  her  eyes  !  "  FATIMA  exclaimed. 
"  It's  not  much,  I'm  sure,  for  she  squints  abomina 
bly  ;"  and  thus  the  ladies  prattled,  as  they  rode  home 
at  night  after  the  great  ball  at  the  house  of  the 
BARON  OF  BARBAZURE. 

The  gentle  reader,  who  has  overheard  their  talk, 
will  understand  the  doubts  which  pervaded  the  mind 
of  the  lovely  FATIMA,  and  the  well-nurtured  English 
maiden  will  participate  in  the  divided  feelings  which 
rent  her  bosom.  'Tis  true,  that  on  his  departure  for 
the  holy  wars,  ROMANE  and  FATIMA  were  plighted  to 
each  other  ;  but  the  folly  of  long  engagements  is  pro 
verbial  ;  and  though  for  many  months  the  faithful 
and  affectionate  girl  had  looked  in  vain  for  news  from 
him,  her  admirable  parents  had  long  spoken  with 
repugnance  of  a  match  which  must  bring  inevitable 
poverty  to  both  parties.  They  had  suffered,  'tis  true, 
the  engagement  to  subside,  hostile  as  they  ever  were 
to  it ;  but  when  at  the  death  of  the  ninth  lady  of 
BARBAZURE,  the  noble  Baron  remarked  FATIMA  at  the 
funeral,  and  rode  home  with  her  after  the  ceremony, 
her  prudent  parents  saw  how  much  wiser,  better,  hap 
pier,  for  their  child  it  would  be  to  have  for  life  a 
partner  like  the  Baron,  than  to  wait  the  doubtful 


BARBAZURE.  65 


return  of  the  penniless  wanderer  to  whom   she  was 
plighted. 

Ah  !  how  beautiful  and  pure  a  being  !  how  regard 
less  of  .self !  how  true  to  duty !  how  obedient  to 
parental  command,  is  that  earthly  angel,  a  well-bred 
woman  of  genteel  family  !  Instead  of  indulging  in 
splenetic  refusals  or  vain  regrets  for  her  absent  lover, 
the  exemplary  FATIMA  at  once  signified  to  her  excel 
lent  parents  her  willingness  to  obey  their  orders ; 
though  she  had  sorrows  (and  she  declared  them  to  be 
tremendous),  the  admirable  being  disguised  them  so 
well,  that  none  knew  they  oppressed  her.  She  said 
she  would  try  to  forget  former  ties,  and  (so  strong  in 
her  mind  was  duty  above  every  other  feeling ;  so 
strong  may  it  be  in  every  British  maiden  !)  the  lovely 
girl  kept  her 'promise.  "  My  former  engagements," 
she  said,  packing  up  ROMANE'S  letters  and  presents, 
(which,  as  the  good  knight  was  mortal  poor,  were  in 
sooth  of  no  great  price) — "  my  former  engagements  I 
look  upon  as  childish  follies  ; — my  affections  are  fixed 
where  my  dear  parents  graft  them — on  the  noble,  the 
princely,  the  polite  BARB  AZURE.  'Tistrue  he  is  not 
comely  in  feature,  but  the  chaste  and  well-bred  female 
knows  how  to  despise  the  fleeting  charms  of  form. 
'Tis  true  he  is  old ;  but  can  woman  be  better  em 
ployed  than  in  tending  her  aged  and  sickly  companion? 
That  he  has  been  married  is  likewise  certain — but 
ah,  my  mother !  who  knows  not  that  he  must  be 


66  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

a  good  and  tender  husband,  who,  nine  times  wed 
ded,  owns  that  he  cannot  be  happy  without  another 
partner  ?  " 

It  was  with  these  admirable  sentiments  the  lovely 
FATIMA  proposed  obedience  to  her  parents'  will,  and 
consented  to  receive  the  magnificent  marriage  gift 
presented  to  her  by  her  gallant  bridegroom. 


III. 

THE  old  COUNTESS  OF  CHACABACQUE  had  made  a 
score  of  vain  attempts  to  see  her  hapless  daughter. 
Ever,  when  she  came,  the  porters  grinned  at  her  sav 
agely  through  the  grating  of  the  portcullis  of  the 
vast  embattled  gate  of  the  Castle  of  Barbazure,  and 
rudely  bade  her  begone. '  "  The  LADY  OF  BARBAZURE 
sees  nobody  but  her  confessor,  and  keeps  her  cham 
ber,"  was  the  invariable  reply  of  the  dogged  func 
tionaries  to  the  entreaties  of  the  agonised  mother. 
And  at  length,  so  furious  was  he  at  her  perpetual 
calls  at  his  gate,  that  the  angry  LORD  OF  BARBAZURE 
himself,  who  chanced  to  be  at  the  postern,  armed  a 
cross-bow,  and  let  fly  an  arblast  at  the  crupper  of 
the  lady's  palfrey,  whereon  she  fled  finally,  screaming 
and  in  terror.  "  I  will  aim  at  the  rider  next  time  !  " 
howled  the  ferocious  Baron,  "  and  not  at  the  horse  ! " 
And  those  who  knew  his  savage  nature  and  his  unri- 


BARBAZURE.  67 


vailed  skill  as  a  bowman,  knew  that  he  would  neither 
break  his  knightly  promise  nor  miss  his  aim. 

Since  the  fatal  day  when  the  Grand  Duke  of  Bur 
gundy  gave  his  famous  passage  of  arms  at  Nantes, 
and  all  the  nobles  of  France  were  present  at  the 
joustings,  it  was  remarked  that  the  BARBAZURE'S 
heart  was  changed  towards  his  gentle  and  virtuous 
lady. 

For  the  three  first  days  of  that  famous  festival, 
the  redoubted  BARON  OF  BARB  AZURE  had  kept  the  field 
against  all  the  knights  who  entered.  His  lance  bore 
everything  down  before  it.  The  most  famous  cham 
pions  of  Europe,  assembled  at  these  joustings,  had 
dropped,  one  by  one,  before  this  tremendous  warrior. 
The  prize  of  the  tourney  was  destined  to  be  his,  and 
he  was  to  be  proclaimed  bravest  of  the  brave,  as  his 
lady  was  the  fairest  of  the  fair. 

On  the  third  day,  however,  as  the  sun  was  declin 
ing  over  the  Yosges,  and  the  shadows  were  lengthen 
ing  over  the  plain  where  the  warrior  had  obtained 
such  triumphs ; — after  having  overcome  two  hundred 
and  thirteen  knights  of  different  nations,  including 
the  fiery  DUNOIS,  the  intrepid  WALTER  MANNY,  the 
spotless  BAYARD,  and  the  undaunted  DUGUESCLIN,  as 
the  conqueror  sate  still  erect  on  his  charger,  and-  the 
multitudes  doubted  whether  ever  another  champion 
could  be  found  to  face  him,  three  blasts  of  a  trumpet 
were  heard,  faint  at  first,  but  at  every  moment  ring- 


68 

ing  more  clearly,  until  a  knight  in  pink  armour  rode 
into  the  lists  with  his  visor  down,  and  riding  a  tre 
mendous  dun  charger,  which  he  managed  to  the  ad 
miration  of  all  present. 

The  heralds  asked  him  his  name  and  quality. 

"  Call  me,"  said  he,  in  a  hollow  voice, "  the  Jilted 
Knight."  What  was  it  made  the  LADY  OF  BARBAZURE 
tremble  at  his  accents  1 

The  knight  refused  to  tell  his  name  and  qualities ; 
but  the  companion  who  rode  with  him,  the  young  and 
noble  PHILIBERT  DE  COQUELICOT,  who  was  known  and 
respected  universally  through  the  neighbourhood, 
gave  a  warranty  for  the  birth  and  noble  degree  of 
the  Jilted  Knight — and  RAOUL  DE  BARBAZURE, 
yelling  hoarsely  for  a  two  hundred  and  fourteenth 
lance,  shook  the  huge  weapon  in  the  air  as  though  it 
were  a  reed,  and  prepared  to  encounter  the  intruder. 

According  to  the  wont  of  chivalry,  and  to  keep 
the  point  of  the  spear  from  harm,  the  top  of  the  un 
known  knight's  lance  was  shielded  with  a  bung,  which 
the  warrior  removed ;  and  galloping  up  to  BARBA 
ZURE' s  pavilion,  over  which  his  shield  hung,  touched 
that  noble  cognizance  with  the  sharpened  steel.  A 
thrill  of  excitement  ran  through  the  assembly  at  this 
daring  challenge  to  a  combat  a  Voutrance.  "  Hast 
thou  confessed,  Sir  Knight  ? "  roared  the  BARBAZURE  ; 
"  take  thy  ground,  and  look  to  thyself ;  for  by  Heaven 
thy  last  hour  is  come  !  "  Poor  youth,  poor  youth  ! 


BARBAZURE.  69 


sighed  the  spectators  ;  he  has  called  down  his  own 
fate.  The  next  minute  the  signal  was  given,  and  as 
the  simoom  across  the  desert,  the  cataract  down  the 
rock,  the  shell  from  the  howitzer,  each  warrior  rushed 
from  his  goal.  ****** 

"  Thou  wilt  not  slay  so  good  a  champion  !  "  said 
the  Grand  Duke,  as  at  the  end  of  that  terrific  com 
bat  the  knight  in  rose  armour  stood  over  his  pros 
trate  foe,  whose  helmet  had  rolled  off  when  he  was  at 
length  unhorsed,  and  whose  blood-shot  eyes  glared 
unutterable  hate  and  ferocity  on  his  conqueror. 

"  Take  thy  life,"  said  he  who  had  styled  himself 
the  Jilted  Knight ;  "  thou  hast  taken  all  that  was 
dear  to  me ; "  and  the  sun  setting,  and  no  other 
warrior  appearing  to  do  battle  against  him,  he  was 
proclaimed  the  conqueror,  and  rode  up  to  the  duch 
ess'  balcony  to  receive  the  gold  chain  which  was  the 
reward  of  the  victor.  He  raised  his  visor  as  the 
smiling  princess  guerdoned  him — raised  it,  and  gave 
one  sad  look  towards  the  LADY  FATIMA  at  her  side  ! " 

"  ROMANE  DE  CLOS  VouGEOT  !  "  shrieked  she,  and 
fainted.  The  BARON  OF  BARBAZURE  heard  the  name 
as  he  writhed  on  the  ground  with  his  wound,  and  by 
his  slighted  honour,  by  his  broken  ribs,  by  his  roused 
fury,  he  swore  revenge  ;  and  the  LADY  FATIMA,  who 
had  come  to  the  tourney  as  a  Queen,  returned  to  her 
castle  as  a  prisoner. 

(As  it  is  impossible  to  give  in  the  limits  of  our 


70 

periodical  the  whole  of  this  remarkable  novel,  let  it 
suffice  to  say  briefly  here,  that  in  about  a  volume  and 
a  half,  in  which  the  descriptions  of  scenery,  the  ac 
count  of  the  agonies  of  the  Baroness  kept  on  bread 
and  water  in  her  dungeon,  and  the  general  tone  of 
morality,  are  all  excellently  worked  out ;  the  BARON 
DE  BARBAZURE  resolves  upon  putting  his  wife  to 

death  by  the  hands  of  the  public  executioner.) 

***#*##* 

Two  minutes  before  the  clock  struck  noon,  the 
savage  Baron  was  on  the  platform  to  inspect  the  pre 
paration  for  the  frightful  ceremony  of  mid-day. 

The  block  was  laid  forth — the  hideous  minister 
of  vengeance,  masked,  and  in  black,  with  the  flaming 
glaive  in  his  hand,  was  ready.  The  Baron  tried  the 
edge  of  the  blade  with  his  finger,  and  asked  the 
dreadful  swordsman  if  his  hand  was  sure  ?  A  nod 
was  the  reply  of  the  man  of  blood.  The  weeping 
garrison  and  domestics  shuddered  and  shrank  from 
him.  There  was  not  one  there  but  loved  and  pitied 
the  gentle  lady. 

Pale,  pale  as  a  stone,  she  was  brought  from  her 
dungeon.  To  all  her  lord's  savage  interrogatories,  her 
reply  had  been,  "  I  am  innocent."  To  his  threats  of 
death,  her  answer  was,  "  You  are  my  lord ;  my  life  is  in 
your  hands,  to  take  or  to  give."  How  few  are  the 
wives,  in  our  day,  who  show  such  angelic  meekness  ! 
It  touched  all  hearts  around  her,  save  that  of  the 


BARBAZURE.  71 


implacable  BARBAZURE  !  Even  the  LADY  BLANCHE, 
(FATTMA'S  cousin,)  whom  he  had  promised  to  marry 
upon  his  faithless  wife's  demise,  besought  for  her 
kinswoman's  life,  and  a  divorce  ;  but  BARBAZURE  had 
vowed  her  death. 

"  Is  there  no  pity,  Sir  ?  "  asked  the  chaplain  who 
had  attended  her.  "  No  pity,"  echoed  the  weeping 
serving-maid.  "  Did  I  not  aye  say  I  would  die  for 
my  lord  ?  "  said  the  gentle  lady,  and  placed  herself 
at  the  block. 

SIR  KAOUL  DE  BARBAZURE  seized  up  the  long 
ringlets  of  her  raven  hair.  "  Now  !  "  shouted  he  to 
the  executioner,  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot,  "  Now 
strike ! " 

The  man  (who  knew  his  trade)  advanced  at  once, 
and  poised  himself  to  deliver  his  blow :  and  making 
his  flashing  sword  sing  in  the  air,  with  one  irresisti 
ble,  rapid  stroke,  it  sheared  clean  off  the  head  of 
the  furious,  the  blood-thirsty,  the  implacable  BARON 
DE  BARBAZURE  ! 

Thus  he  fell  a  victim  to  his  own  jealousy ;  and 
the  agitation  of  the  LADY  FATIMA  may  be  imagined, 
when  the  executioner,  flinging  off  his  mask,  knelt 
gracefully  at  her  feet,  and  revealed  to  her  the  well- 
known  features  of  KOMANE  DE  CLOS  VOUGEOT.  i 


LORDS  AND  LIVERIES. 

BY    THE   AUTHORESS   OF     "  DUKES   AND   DEJEUNERS,"    "  HEARTS    AND 
DIAMONDS,"    "  MARCHIONESSES    AND   MILLINERS,"  ETC.  ETC. 

I. 

CORBLEU  !  What  a  lovely  creature  that  was  in  the 
FITZBATTLEAXE  box  to-night,"  said  one  of  a  group  of 
young  dandies,  who  were  leaning  over  the  velvet- 
cushioned  balconies  of  the  Coventry  Club,  smoking 
their  full-flavoured  Cubas  (from  HUDSON'S)  after  the 
opera. 

Everybody  stared  at  such  an  exclamation  of  en 
thusiasm  from  the  lips  of  the  young  EARL  OF  BAG- 
NIGGE,  who  was  never  heard  to  admire  anything 
except  a  coulis  de  dindonneau  a  la  St.  Menehould, 
or  a  supreme  de  cochon  en  torticotis  a  la  Piffarde ; 
such  as  CHAMPOLLION,  the  chief  of  the  Travellers,  only 
knows  how  to  dress  ;  or  the  bouquet  of  a  flask  of 
Medoc,  of  CARBONELL'S  best  quality ;  or  a  goutte  of 
Marasquin,  from  the  cellars  of  BRIGGS  AND  HOBSON. 

ALURED  DE  PENTONVILLE,  eighteenth  Earl  of 
Bagnigge,  Viscount  Paon  of  Islington,  Baron  Pan- 
eras,  Kingscross,  and  a  Baronet,  was,  like  too  many 
of  our  young  men  of  ton,  utterly  blase,  although  only 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  73 

in  his  twenty-fourth  year.  Blest,  luckily,  with  a  mo 
ther  of  excellent  principles,  (who  had  imbued  his 
young  mind  with  that  Morality  which  is  so  superior 
to  all  the  vain  pomps  of  the  world  !),  it  had  not  been 
always  the  young  Earl's  lot  to  wear  the  coronet  for 
which  he  now  in  sooth  cared  so  little.  His  father,  a 
Captain  of  Britain's  navy,  struck  down  by  the  side  of 
the  gallant  COLLINGWOOD  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  left 
little  but  his  sword  and  spotless  name  to  his  young, 
lovely,  and  inconsolable  widow,  who  passed  the  first 
years  of  her  mourning  in  educating  her  child  in  an 
elegant  though  small  cottage  in  one  of  the  romantic 
marine  villages  of  beautiful  Devonshire.  Her  child  ! 
What  a  gush  of  consolation  filled  the  widow's  heart 
as  she  pressed  him  to  it !  how  faithfully  did  she  instil 
into  his  young  bosom  those  principles  which  had  been 
the  pole-star  of  the  existence  of  his  gallant  father. 

In  this  secluded  retreat,  rank  and  wealth  almost 
boundless  found  the  widow  and  her  boy.  The  sev 
enteenth  Earl — gallant  and  ardent,  and  in  the  prime 
of  youth — went  forth  one  day  from  the  Eternal  City 
to  a  steeple-chase  in  the  Campagna.  A  mutilated 
corpse  was  brought  back  to  his  hotel  in  the  Piazza  de 
Spagna.  Death,  alas  !  is  no  respecter  of  the  Nobility. 
That  shattered  form  was  all  that  remained  of  the 
fiery,  the  haughty,  the  wild,  but  the  generous  ALTA- 
MONT  DE  PENTONVILLE  !  Such,  such  is  fate  ! 

The  admirable  EMILY  DE  PENTONVILLE  trembled 
4 


74 

with  all  a  mother's  solicitude  at  the  distinctions  and 
honours  which  thus  suddenly  descended  on  her  boy. 
She  engaged  an  excellent  clergyman  of  the  Church 
of  England  to  superintend  his  studies  ;  to  accompany 
him  on  foreign  travel  when  the  proper  season  arrived  ; 
to  ward  from  him  those  dangers  which  dissipation 
always  throws  in  the  way  of  the  noble,  the  idle,  and 
the  wealthy.  But  the  REVEREND  CYRIL  DELAVAL 
died  of  the  measles  at  Naples,  and  henceforth  the 
young  EARL  OF  BAGNIGGE  was  without  a  guardian. 

"What  was  the  consequence  ?  That,  at  three-and- 
twenty,  he  was  a  cynic  and  an  epicure.  He  had 
drained  the  cup  of  pleasure  until  it  had  palled  in 
his  unnerved  hand.  He  had  looked  at  the  Pyramids 
without  awe,  at  the  Alps  without  reverence.  He  was 
unmoved  by  the  sandy  solitudes  of  the  desert  as  by 
the  placid  depths  of  Mediterranea's  sea  of  blue. 
Bitter,  bitter  tears  did  EMILY  DE  PENTONVILLE  weep, 
when,  on  ALURED'S  return  from  the  Continent,  she 
beheld  the  awful  change  that  dissipation  had  wrought 
in  her  beautiful,  her  blue-eyed,  her  perverted,  her  still 
beloved  boy ! 

"  Corpo  di  bacco,"  he  said,  pitching  the  end  of 
his  cigar  on  to  the  red  nose  of  the  COUNTESS  OF  DELA- 
WADDYMORE'S  coachman,  who,  having  deposited  her 
fat  ladyship  at  No.  236,  Piccadilly,  was  driving  the 
carriage  to  the  stables,  before  commencing  his  even 
ing  at  the  Fortune  of  War  public-house ;  "what  a 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  75 

lovely  creature  that  was  !    What  eyes  !    what  hair  ! 
Who  knows  her  ?     Do  you,  mon  cher  Prince  ? 

"  E  bellissima,  certamente"  said  the  DUCA  DI 
MONTEPULCIANO,  and  stroked  down  his  jetty  mous 
tache. 

"  Ein  gar  schones  Mddchen"  said  the  HERE 
DITARY  GRAND  DUKE  OF  EULENSCHRECKENSTEIN,  and 
turned  up  his  carroty  one. 

"  Elle  riest  pas  mal,  ma  foil"  said  the  PRINCE  DE 
BORODINO,  with  a  scowl  on  his  darkling  brows.  "  Mon 
Dieu,  que  ces  cigarres  sont  mauvais  ! "  he  added,  as 
he  too  cast  away  his  Cuba. 

"  Try  one  of  my  Pickwicks,"  said  FRANKLIN  Fox, 
with  a  sneer,  offering  his  gold  £tui  to  the  young 
Frenchman  ;  "  they  are  some  of  PONTET'S  best,  Prince. 
What,  do  you  bear  malice  ?  Come,  let  us  be  friends," 
said  the  gay  and  careless  young  patrician ;  but  a 
scowl  on  the  part  of  the  Frenchman  was  the  only 
reply. 

— "  Want  to  know  who  she  is  ?  BORODINO  knows 
who  she  is,  BAGNIGGE,"  the  wag  went  on. 

Everybody  crowded  round  MONSIEUR  DE  BORO 
DINO  thus  apostrophised.  The  MARQUIS  OF  ALICOM- 
PAYNE,  young  DE  BOOTS  of  the  Life  Guards,  TOM 
PROTOCOL  of  the  Foreign  Office ;  the  gay  young 
peers  FARINTOSH,  POLDOODY,  and  the  rest ;  and  BAG 
NIGGE,  for  a  wonder,  not  less  eager  than  any  one 
present. 


76  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

"  No,  he  will  tell  you  nothing  about  her.  Don't 
you  see  he  has  gone  off  in  a  fury  ?  "  FRANKLIN  Fox 
continued.  "  He  has  his  reasons,  ce  cher  Prince :  he 
will  tell  you  nothing ;  but  I  will.  You  know  that  I 
am  au  mieux  with  the  dear  old  Duchess." 

"  They  say  FRANK  and  she  are  engaged  after  the 
Duke's  death,"  cried  POLDOODY. 

"  I  always  thought  FWANK  was  the  Duke's  illicit 
gweat-gwandson,"  drawled  out  DE  BOOTS. 

"  I  heard  that  he  doctored  her  Blenheim,  and 
used  to  bring  her  wigs  from  Paris,"  cried  that  mali 
cious  TOM  PROTOCOL,  whose  mots  are  known  in  every 
diplomatic  salon  from  Petersburgh  to  Palermo. 

"  Burn  her  wigs,  and  hang  her  poodle  ! "  said 
BAGNIGGE.  "  Tell  us  about  this  girl,  FRANKLIN 
Fox?" 

"  In  the  first  place,  she  has  five  hundred  thousand 
acres,  in  a  ring  fence,  in  Norfolk  ;  a  County  in  Scot 
land,  a  Castle  in  Wales,  a  Villa  at  Richmond,  a  cor 
ner  house  in  Belgrave-square,  and  eighty  thousand 
a  year  in  the  Three  per  Cents." 

"  Aprts  ?  "  said  BAGNIGGE,  still  yawning. 

"  Secondly,  BORODINO  luifait  la  cour.  They  are 
cousins,  her  mother  was  an  Armagnac  of  the  emigra 
tion  ;  the  old  Marshal,  his  father,  married  another 
sister.  I  believe  he  was  footman  in  the  family,  be 
fore  NAPOLEON  princified  him." 

"  No,  no,  he  was  second   coachman  " — TOM  PRO- 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  77 

TOCOL  good-naturedly  interposed — "  a  cavalry  officer, 
FRANK,  not  an  infantry  man." 

"  Faith,  you  should  have  seen  his  fury  (the  young 
one's,  I  mean)  when  he  found  me  in  the  Duchess's 
room  this  evening,  tete-a-tete  with  the  heiress,  who 
deigned  to  accept  a  bouquet  from  this  hand." 

"  It  cost  me  three  guineas,"  poor  FRANK  said,  with 
a  shrug  and  a  sigh,  "  and  that  Co  vent  Garden  scoun 
drel  gives  no  credit :  but  she  took  the  flowers ; — eh, 
BAGNIGGE  ?  " 

"And  flung  them  to  ALBONI,"  the  Peer  replied, 
with  a  haughty  sneer.  And  poor  little  FRANKLIN  Fox 
was  compelled  to  own  that  she  had. 

The  maitre-d'hdtel  here  announced  that  supper 
was  served.  It  was  remarked  that  even  the  coulis  de 
dindonneau  made  no  impression  on  BAGNIGGE  that 
night. 


II. 


THE  sensation  produced  by  the  debut  of  AMETHYST 
PIMLICO  at  the  Court  of  the  Sovereign,  and  in 
the  salons  of  the  beau-monde.  was  such  as  has 
seldom  been  created  by  the  appearance  of  any  other 
beauty.  The  men  were  raving  with  love,  and  the 
women  with  jealousy.  Her  eyes,  her  beauty,  her 
wit,  her  grace,  her  ton,  caused  a  perfect  fureur  of 
admiration  or  envy. 


78 

Introduced  by  the  DUCHESS  OF  FITZBATTLEAXE, 
along  with  her  Grace's  daughters,  the  Ladies  GWEN 
DOLINE  and  GWINEVER  PORTCULLIS,  the  heiress's 
regal  beauty  quite  flung  her  cousins'  simple  charms 
into  the  shade,  and  blazed  with  a  splendour  which 
caused  all  "  minor  lights  "  to  twinkle  faintly.  Before 
a  day  the  beau-monde,  before  a  week  even  the  vulga 
rians  of  the  rest  of  the  town,  rang  with  the  fame  of 
her  charms  ;  and  while  the  dandies  and  the  beauties 
were  raving  about  her,  or  tearing  her  to  pieces  in  May 
Fair,  even  MRS.  DOBBS  (who  had  been  to  the  pit  of 
the  "  Hoperer "  in  a  green  turban  and  a  crumpled 
yellow  satin),  talked  about  the  great  hairess  to  her 
D.  in  Bloomsbury  Square. 

Crowds  went  to  SQUAB  AND  LYNCH'S,  in  Long 
Acre,  to  examine  the  carriages  building  for  her,  so 
faultless,  so  splendid,  so  quiet,  so  odiously  unosten 
tatious  and  provokingly  simple  !  Besides  the  ances 
tral  services  of  argenterie  and  vaissette  plate,  con 
tained  in  a  hundred  and  seventy  six  plate  chests  at 
MESSRS.  CHILDS'  ;  RUMBLE  and  BRIGGS  prepared  a 
gold  service,  and  GARRAWAY,  of  the  Haymarket,  a 
service  of  the  BENVENUTO  CELLINI  pattern,  which 
were  the  admiration  of  all  London.  Before  a  month 
it  is  a  fact  that  the  wretched  haberdashers  in  the 
city  exhibited  blue  stocks,  called  "  Heiress-killers, 
very  chaste,  two- and  -  six ;"  long  before  that,  the 
monde  had  rushed  to  MADAME  CRINOLINE'S,  or  sent 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  79 

couriers  to  MADAME  MARABOU,  at  Paris,  so  as  to 
have  copies  of  her  dresses  ;  but,  as  the  Mantuan 
bard  observes,  "  Non  cuivis  contigit," — every  foot 
cannot  accommodate  itself  to  the  ckaussure  of  CIN 
DERELLA. 

With  all  this  splendour,  this  worship,  this  beauty ; 
with  these  cheers  following  her,  and  these  crowds  at 
her  feet,  was  AMETHYST  happy  ?  Ah,  no  !  It  is  not 
under  the  necklace  the  most  brilliant  that  BRIGGS 
and  RUMBLE  can  supply ;  it  is  not  in  LYNCH'S  best 
cushioned  chariot  that  the  heart  is  most  at  ease. 
"  Que  je  me  ruinerai"  says  FRONSAC  in  a  letter  to 
BOSSUET,  "  si  je  savais  ou  acheter  le  bonheur  /" 

With  all  her  riches,  with  all  her  splendour.  AME 
THYST  was  wretched  —  wretched,  because  lonely  ; 
wretched,  because  her  loving  heart  had  nothing  to 
cling  to.  Her  splendid  mansion  was  a  convent ;  no 
male  person  ever  entered  it,  except  FRANKLIN  Fox, 
(who  counted  for  nothing,)  and  the  Duchess's  family, 
her  kinsman  old  LORD  HUMPINGTON,  his  friend  old 
SIR  JOHN  FOGEY,  and  her  cousin,  the  odious,  odious 
BORODINO. 

The  PRINCE  DE  BORODINO  declared  openly  that 
AMETHYST  was  engaged  to  him.  Crible  de  dettes,  it 
is  no  wonder  that  he  should  choose  such  an  opportu 
nity  to  refaire  sa  fortune.  He  gave  out  that  he 
would  kill  any  man  who  should  cast  an  eye  on  the 
heiress,  and  the  monster  kept  his  word,  MAJOR 


80 

G-RIGG,  of  the  Life  Guards,  had  already  fallen  by  his 
hand  at  Ostend.  The  O'TooLE,  who  had  met  her 
on  the  Rhine,  had  received  a  ball  in  his  shoulder  at 
CoblentZj  and  did  not  care  to  resume  so  dangerous  a 
courtship.  BORODINO  could  snuff  a  bougie  at  a  hun- 
dred-and-fifty  yards.  He  could  beat  BERTRAND  or 
ALEXANDER  DUMAS  himself  with  the  small  sword  ;  he 
was  the  dragon  that  watched  this  pomme  d?or,  and 
very  few  persons  were  now  inclined  to  face  a  cham 
pion  5*  redoutable. 

Over  a  Salmi  d>  escargot  at  the  Coventry,  the 
dandies  whom  we  introduced  in  our  last  volume  were 
assembled,  there  talking  of  the  heiress :  and  her  story 
was  told  by  FRANKLIN  Fox  to  LORD  BAGNIGGE,  who, 
for  a  wonder,  was  interested  in  the  tale.  BORODINO'S 
pretensions  were  discussed,  and  the  way  in  which  the 
fair  AMETHYST  was  confined.  Fitzbattleaxe  House, 
in  Belgrave  Square,  is — as  every  body  knows — the 
next  mansion  to  that  occupied  by  AMETHYST.  A 
communication  was  made  between  the  two  houses. 
She  never  went  out  except  accompanied  by  the  Duch 
ess's  guard,  which  it  was  impossible  to  overcome. 

"  Impossible  !  Nothing's  impossible,"  said  LORD 
BAGNIGGE. 

"  I  bet  you  what  you  like  you  don't  get  in,"  said 
the  young  MARQUIS  OF  MARTINGALE. 

"  I  bet  you  a  thousand  ponies  I  stop  a  week  in  the 
heiress's  house  before  the  season's  over,"  LORD  BAG- 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  8i 

NIGGE  replied  with  a  yawn ;  and  the  bet  was  regis 
tered  with  shouts  of  applause. 

But  it  seemed  as  if  the  Fates  had  determined 
against  Lord  BAGNIGGE,  for  the  very  next  day,  riding 
in  the  Park,  his  horse  fell  with  him ;  he  was  carried 
home  to  his  house  with  a  fractured  limb  and  a  dislo 
cated  shoulder ;  and  the  doctor's  bulletins  pronounced 
him  to  be  in  the  most  dangerous  state. 

MARTINGALE  was  a  married  man,  and  there  was 
no  danger  of  his  riding  by  the  FITZBATTLEAXE  car 
riage.  A  fortnight  after  the  above  events,  his  Lord 
ship  was  prancing  by  her  Grace's  great  family  coach, 
and  chattering  with  LADY  G-WINEVER  about  the 
strange  wager. 

"  Do  you  know  what  a  poney  is,  LADY  GWIN- 
EVER  ?  "  he  asked.  Her  Ladyship  said  yes  ;  she  had 
a  cream-coloured  one  at  Castle  Barbican  ;  and  stared 
when  LORD  MARTINGALE  announced  that  he  should 
soon  have  a  thousand  ponies,  worth  five-and-twenty 
pounds  each,  which  were  all  now  kept  at  COUTTS'S. 
Then  he  explained  the  circumstances  of  the  bet  with 
BAGNIGGE.  Parliament  was  to  adjourn  in  ten  days ; 
the  season  would  be  over ;  BAGNIGGE  was  lying  ill 
chez  lui ;  and  the  five-and-twenty  thousand  were  ir 
recoverably  his.  And  he  vowed  he  would  buy  LORD 

BINNACLE'S  yacht — crew,  captain,  guns  and  all. 

4* 


82 

On  returning  home  that  night  from  LADY  POLKI- 
MORE'SJ  MARTINGALE  found  among  the  many  billets 
upon  the  gold  plateau  in  his  antichambre,  the  fol 
lowing  brief  one,  which  made  him  start : — 

"  DEAR  MARTINGALE, — Don't  be  too  sure  of  BIN 
NACLE'S  yacht.  There  are  still  ten  days  before  the 
season  is  over  ;  and  my  ponies  may  lie  at  COUTTS'S 
for  some  time  to  come.  "  Yours, 

"BAGNIGGE." 

"  P.  S. — I  write  with  my  left  hand  ;  for  my  right 
is  still  splintered  up  from  that  confounded  fall." 

III. 

THE  tall  footman,  number  four,  who  had  come  in  the 
place  of  JOHN,  cashiered  (for  want  of  proper  mallets, 
and  because  his  hair  did  not  take  powder  well),  had 
given  great  satisfaction  to  the  under-butler,who  report 
ed  well  of  him  to  his  chief,  who  had  mentioned  his  name 
with  praise  to  the  house-steward.  He  was  so  good- 
looking  and  well-spoken  a  young  man,  that  the  ladies 
in  the  housekeeper's  room  deigned  to  notice  him  more 
than  once ;  .nor  was  his  popularity  diminished  on  ac 
count  of  a  quarrel  in  which  he  engaged  with  MON 
SIEUR  ANATOLE,  the  enormous  Walloon  chasseur,  who 
was  one  day  found  embracing  Miss  FLOUNCY,  who 
waited  on  AMETHYST'S  own  maid.  The  very  instant 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  83 

Miss  FLOUNCY  saw  MR.  JEAMES  entering  the  Ser 
vant's  Hall,  where  MONSIEUR  ANATOLE  was  engaged 
in  "  aggravating  "  her,  Miss  FLOUNCY  screamed — at 
the  next  moment  the  Belgian  giant  lay  sprawling  up 
on  the  carpet — and  JEAMES,  standing  over  him,  as 
sumed  so  terrible  a  look,  that  the  chasseur  declined 
any  further  combat.  The  victory  was  made  known 
to  the  house-steward  himself,  who  being  a  little  par 
tial  to  Miss  FLOUNCY  herself,  complimented  JEAMES 
on  his  valour,  and  poured  out  a  glass  of  Madeira  in 
his  own  room. 

Who  was  JEAMES  ?  He  had  come  recommended 
by  the  BAGNIGGE  people.  He  had  lived,  he  said,  in 
that  family  two  years.  "  But  where  there  was  no  la 
dies,"  he  said,  "  a  gentleman's  hand  was  spiled  for 
service  ;  "  and  JEAMES'S  was  a  very  delicate  hand ; 
Miss  FLOUNCY  admired  it  very  much,  and  of  course 
he  did  not  defile  it  by  menial  service ;  he  had  in  a 
young  man  who  called  him  "  Sir,"  and  did  all  the 
coarse  work ;  and  JEAMES  read  the  morning  paper  to 
the  ladies;  not  spellingly  and  with  hesitation,  as 
many  gentlemen  do,  but  easily  and  elegantly,  speak 
ing  off  the  longest  words  without  a  moment's  difficul 
ty.  He  could  speak  French,  too,  Miss  FLOUNCY 
found,  who  was  studying  it  under  MADEMOISELLE, 
grande  jUle-de-chambre  de  confiance ;  for  when  she 
said  to  him  "  Polly  voo  Fransy,  MUNSEER  JEAMES  ?  " 
he  replied  readily  "  We,  Mademaselle  fay  passay 


84  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

boco  de  tong  a  Parry.  Commong  voo  potty  voo  ?  " 
How  Miss  FLOUNCY  admired  him  as  he  stood  before 
her,  the  day  after  he  had  saved  Miss  AMETHYST  when 
the  horses  had  run  away  with  her  in  the  park ! 

Poor  FLOUNCY,  poor  FLOUNCY  !  JEAMES  had  been 
but  a  week  in  AMETHYST'S  service,  and  already  the 
gentle  heart  of  the  washing-girl  was  irrecoverably 
gone  !  Poor  FLOUNCY  !  poor  FLOUNCY  !  he  thought 
not  of  thee. 

It  happened  thus.  Miss  AMETHYST  being  engag 
ed  to  drive  with  her  cousin  the  Prince  in  his  phaeton, 
her  own  carriage  was  sent  into  the  Park  simply  with 
her  companion,  who  had  charge  of  her  little  Fido,  the 
dearest  little  spaniel  in  the  world.  JEAMES  and  FRED 
ERICK  were  behind  the  carriage  with  their  long  sticks 
and  neat  dark  liveries  ;  the  horses  were  worth  a  thou 
sand  guineas  each,  the  coachman  a  late  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  of  cavalry :  the  whole  ring  could  not  boast  a 
more  elegant  turn  out. 

The  Prince  drove  his  curricle  and  had  charge  of 
his  belle  cousine.  It  may  have  been  the  red  fezzes  in 
the  carriage  of  the  Turkish  ambassador  which  fright 
ened  the  Prince's  greys,  or  MRS.  CHAMPIGNON'S  new 
yellow  liveries,  which  were  flaunting  in  the  Park,  or 
hideous  LADY  GORGON'S  preternatural  ugliness,  who 
passed  in  a  low  pony-carriage  at  the  time,  or  the 
prince's  own  want  of  skill,  finally ;  but  certain  it  is 
that  the  horses  took  fright,  dashed  wildly  along  the 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  85 

mile,  scattered  equipages,  pietons,  dandies'  cabs,  and 
Snobs'  pheaytons.  AMETHYST  was  screaming ;  and 
the  Prince,  deadly  pale,  had  lost  all  presence  of  mind, 
as  the  curricle  came  rushing  by  the  spot  where  Miss 
AMYTHIST'S  carriage  stood. 

"  I'm  blest,"  FREDERICK  exclaimed  to  his  compan 
ion,  "  if  it  ain't  the  Prince  a  drivin  our  Missis  !  They'll 
be  in  the  Serpingtine,  or  dashed  to  pieces,  if  they 
dont  mind  ;"  and  the  runaway  steeds  at  this  instant 
came  upon  them  as  a  whirlwind. 

But  if  those  steeds  ran  at  a  whirlwind  pace, 
JEAMES  was  swifter.  To  jump  from  behind,  to  bound 
after  the  rocking,  reeling  curricle,  to  jump  into  it  aid 
ed  by  the  long  stick  which  he  carried  and  used  as  a 
leaping-pole,  and  to  seize  the  reins  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  miserable  BORODINO,  who  shrieked  piteously 
as  the  dauntless  valet  leapt  on  his  toes  and  into  his 
seat,  was  the  work  of  an  instant.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  mad,  swaying  rush  of  the  horses  was  reduced  to 
a  swift  but  steady  gallop ;  presently  into  a  canter, 
then  a  trot ;  until  finally  they  pulled  up  smoking  and 
trembling,  but  quite  quiet,  by  the  side  of  AMETHYST'S 
carriage,  which  came  up  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"  Give  me  the  reins,  malappris  !  tu  m'tcrases  les 
cors.  manant ! "  yelled  the  frantic  nobleman,  writh 
ing  underneath  the  intrepid  charioteer. 

"  Taut  pis  pour  toi^  nigaud"  was  the  reply.  The 
lovely  AMETHYST  of  course  had  fainted ;  but  she  re- 


86  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

covered  as  she  was  placed  in  her  carriage,  and  reward 
ed  her  preserver  with  a  celestial  smile. 

The  rage,  the  fury,  the  maledictions  of  BORODINO, 
as  he  saw  the  latter — a  liveried  menial — stoop  grace 
fully  forward  and  kiss  AMETHYST'S  hand,  may  be  im 
agined  rather  than  described.  But  JEAMES  heeded 
not  his  curses.  Having  placed  his  adored  mistress  in 
the  carriage,  he  calmly  resumed  his  station  behind. 
Passion  or  danger  seemed  to  have  no  impression  upon 
that  pale  marble  face. 

BORODINO  went  home  furious ;  nor  was  his  rage 
diminished,  when,  on  coming  to  dinner  that  day,  a 
recherche  banquet  served  in  the  Frangipane  best 
style,  and  requesting  a  supply  of  a  puree  a  la  bisque 
aux  ecrtvisseS)  the  clumsy  attendant  who  served  him 
let  fall  the  assiette  of  vermeille  cisele  with  its  scald 
ing  contents,  over  the  Prince's  chin,  his  Mechlin  jabot 
and  the  grand  cordon  of  the  Legion  of  Honour  which 
he  wore. 

"  Infdme"  howled  BORODINO,  "  tu  Pas  fait  ex- 
pies'" 

"  Oui,je  Pai  fait  expres"  said  the  man,  with  the 
most  perfect  Parisian  accent.  It  was  JEAMES. 

Such  insolence  of  course  could  not  be  passed  un 
noticed  even  after  the  morning's  service,  and  he  was 
chassed  on  the  spot.  He  had  been  but  a  week  in 
the  house. 

The  next  month  the  newspapers  contained  a  para- 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES.  87 

graph  which  may  possibly  elucidate  the  above  mys 
tery,  and  to  the  following  effect : — 

Singular  Wager.— One  night,  at  the  end  of  last 
season,  the  young  and  eccentric  EARL  OF  B — GN — 
GGE  laid  a  wager  of  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  with 
a  broken  sporting  patrician,  the  dashing  MARQUIS  OF 
M — RT — NG — LE,  that  he  would  pass  a  week  under 
the  roof  of  a  celebrated  and  lovely  young  heiress, 
who  lives  not  a  hundred  miles  from  B — LGR — VE 
SQU — RE.  The  bet  having  been  made,  the  Earl  pre 
tended  an  illness,  and  having  taken  lessons  from  one 
of  his  lordship's  own  footmen  (MR.  JAMES  PLUSH, 
whose  name  he  also  borrowed)  in  '  the  mysteries  of 
the  profession]  actually  succeeded  in  making  an  en 
try  into  Miss  P — ML— co's  mansion,  where  he  stopped 
one  week  exactly ;  having  time  to  win  his  bet,  and  to 
save  the  life  of  the  lady,  whom  we  hear  he  is  about 
to  lead  to  the  altar.  He  disarmed  the  PRINCE  OF  BO 
RODINO  in  a  duel  fought  on  Calais  sands — and  it  is 
said,  appeared  at  the  C —  club  wearing  his  plush 
costume  under  a  cloak,  and  displaying  it  as  a  proof 
that  he  had  won  his  wager." 

Such,  indeed,  were  the  circumstances.  The  young 
couple  have  not  more  than  nine  hundred  thousand  a 
year,  but  they  live  cheerfully,  and  manage  to  do 
good ;  and  EMILY  DE  PENTONVILLE,  who  adores  her 
daughter-in-law  and  her  little  grand-children,  is  blest 
in  seeing  her  darling  son  enfin  un  homme  rangt. 


CODLINGSBY. 

BY    B,    DE    SHREWSBURY,    ESQ. 


"  THE  whole  world  is  bound  by  one  chain.  In 
every  city  in  the  globe  there  is  one  quarter  that  certain 
travellers  know  and  recognize  from  its  likeness  to  its 
brother  district  in  all  other  places  where  are  congre 
gated  the  habitations  of  men.  In  Tehran,  or  Pekin, 
or  Stamboul,  or  New  York,  or  Timbuctoo,  or  London, 
there  is  a  certain  district  where  a  certain  man  is  not 
a  stranger.  Where  the  idols  are  fed  with  incense  by 
the  streams  of  Ching-wang-foo ;  where  the  minarets 
soar  sparkling  above  the  cypresses,  their  reflexions 
quivering  in  the  lucid  waters  of  the  Golden  Horn ; 
where  the  yellow  Tiber  flows  under  broken  bridges 
and  over  imperial  glories ;  where  the  huts  are  squat 
ted  by  the  Niger,  under  the  palm-trees ;  where  the 
Northern  Babel  lies,  with  its  warehouses,  and  its 
bridges,  its  graceful  factory-chimneys,  and  its  clumsy 
fanes — hidden  in  fog  and  smoke  by  the  dirtiest  river 


CODLINGSBY.  89 


in  the  world — in  all  the  cities  of  mankind  there  is 
One  Home  whither  men  of  one  family  may  resort. 
Over  the  entire  world  spreads  a  vast  brotherhood, 
suffering,  silent,  scattered,  sympathising,  waiting — 
an  immense  Free-Masonry.  Once  this  world-spread 
band  was  an  Arabian  clan — a  little  nation  alone  and 
outlying  amongst  the  mighty  monarchies  of  ancient 
time,  the  Megatheria  of  history.  The  sails  of  their 
rare  ships  might  be  seen  in  the  Egyptian  waters ;  the 
camels  of  their  caravans  might  thread  the  sands  of 
Baalbec,  or  wind  through  the  date-groves  of  Damas 
cus  ;  their  flag  was  raised,  not  ingloriously,  in  many 
wars,  against  mighty  odds ;  but  'twas  a  small  people, 
and  on  one  dark  night  the  Lion  of  Judah  went  down 
before  VESPASIAN'S  Eagles,  and  in  flame,  and  death, 
and  struggle,  Jerusalem  agonized  and  died.  *  *  * 
Yes,  the  Jewish  city  is  lost  to  Jewish  men ;  but 
have  they  not  taken  the  world  in  exchange  ?  " 

Mused  thus  GODFREY  DE  BOUILLON,  MARQUIS  OF 
CODLINGSBY,  as  he  debouched  from  Wych  Street  into 
the  Strand.  He  had  been  to  take  a  box  for  ARMIDA 
at  MADAME  YESTRIS'S  theatre.  That  little  ARMIDA 
was  folle  of  MADAME  VESTRIS'S  theatre ;  and  her 
little  Brougham,  and  her  little  self,  and  her  enormous 
eyes,  and  her  prodigious  opera-glass,  and  her  miracu 
lous  bouquet,  which  cost  LORD  CODLINGSBY  twenty 
guineas  every  evening  at  NATHAN'S  in  Covent  Garden, 


90 

(the  children  of  the  gardeners  of  Sharon  have  still  no 
rival  for  flowers,)  might  be  seen  three  nights  in  the 
week  at  least,  in  the  narrow,  charming,  comfortable 
little  theatre.  GODFREY  had  the  box.  He  was 
strolling,  listlessly,  eastward  ;  and  the  above  thoughts 
passed  through  the  young  noble's  mind  as  he  came 
in  sight  of  Holy  well  Street. 

The  occupants  of  the  London  Ghetto  sat  at  their 
porches  basking  in  the  evening  sunshine.  Children 
were  playing  on  the  steps,  fathers  were  smoking  at 
the  lintel.  Smiling  faces  looked  out  from  the  various 
and  darkling  draperies  with  which  the  warehouses 
were  hung.  Ringlets  glossy,  and  curly,  and  jetty — 
eyes  black  as  night — midsummer  night — when  it 
lightens  ;  haughty  noses  bending  like  beaks  of  eagles 
— eager  quivering  nlsStfils— -lips  curved  like  the  bow 
of  Love — every  man  or  maiden,  every  babe  or  ma 
tron  in  that  English  Jewry  bore  in  his  countenance 
one  or  more  of  these  characteristics  of  his  peerless 
Arab  race. 

"  How  beautiful  they  are  !  "  mused  CODLINGSBY, 
as  he  surveyed  these  placid  groups  calmly  taking 
their  pleasure  in  the  sunset. 

"  D'you  vant  to  look  at  a  nishe  coat  ?  "  a  voice  said, 
which  made  him  start ;  and  then  some  one  behind  him 
began  handling  a  master-piece  of  STULTZ'S  with  a  fa 
miliarity  which  would  have  made  the  Baron  tremble. 


CODLINGSBY.  9 1 


-  "  RAFAEL  MENDOZA  !  "  exclaimed  GODFREY. 

"  The  same,  LORD  CODLINGSBY,"  the  individual 
so  apostrophised  replied.  "  I  told  you  we  should 
meet  again  where  you  would  little  expect  me.  Will 
it  please  you  to  enter  ?  this  is  Friday,  and  we  close 
at  sunset.  It  rejoices  my  heart  to  welcome  you 
home."  So  saying  RAFAEL  laid  his  hand  on  his 
breast,  and  bowed,  an  Oriental  reverence.  All  traces 
of  the  accent  with  which  he  first  addressed  LORD 
CODLINGSBY  had  vanished :  it  was  a  disguise ;  half 
the  Hebrew's  life  is  a  disguise.  He  shields  himself 
in  craft,  since  the  Norman  boors  persecuted  him. 

They  passed  under  an  awning  of  old  clothes, 
tawdry  fripperies,  greasy  spangles,  and  battered 
masks,  into  a  shop  as  black  and  hideous  as  the  en 
trance  was  foul.  "  This  your  home,  RAFAEL  ?  "  said 
LORD  CODLINGSBY. 

"Why  not?"  RAFAEL  answered.  "I  am  tired 
of  Schloss  Schinkenstein  ;  the  Rhine  bores  me  after 
a  while.  It  is  too  hot  for  Florence ;  besides  they 
have  not  completed  the  picture  gallery,  and  my 
palace  smells  of  putty.  You  wouldn't  have  a  man, 
mon  cher,  bury  himself  in  his  chateau  in  Normandy, 
out  of  the  hunting  season  ?  The  Rugantino  Palace 
stupifies  me.  Those  Titians  are  so  gloomy,  I  shall 
have  my  HOBBIMAS  and  TENIERS,  I  think,  from  my 
house  at  the  Hague  hung  over  them." 

"  How  many  castles,  palaces,  houses,  warehouses. 


92  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

shops,  have  you,  RAFAEL  ?"  LORD  CODLINGSBY  asked, 
laughing. 

"  This  is  one  "  RAFAEL  answered.     "  Come  in." 


II. 

THE  noise  in  the  old  town  was  terrific  ;  Great 
Tom  was  booming  sullenly  over  the  uproar  ;  the  bell 
of  Saint  Mary's  was  clanging  with  alarm  ;  St.  Giles's 
tocsin  chimed  furiously ;  howls,  curses,  flights  of 
brickbats,  stones  shivering  windows,  groans  of  wound 
ed  men,  cries  of  frightened  females,  cheers  of  either 
contending  party  as  it  charged  the  enemy  from  Carfax 
to  Trumpington  Street,  proclaimed  that  the  battle 
was  at  its  height. 

In  Berlin  they  would  have  said  it.  was  a  revolu 
tion,  and  the  cuirassiers  would  have  been  charging, 
sabre  in  hand,  anfidst  that  infuriate  mob.  In  France 
they  would  have  brought  down  artillery,  and  played 
on  it  with  twenty-four  pounders.  In  Cambridge  no 
body  heeded  the  disturbance — it  was  a  Town  and 
Gown  row. 

The  row  arose  at  a  boat-race.  The  Town  boat 
(manned  by  eight  stout  barges,  with  the  redoubted 
RULLOCK  for  stroke)  had  bumped  the  Brazennose 
light  oar,  usually  at  the  head  of  the  river.  High 
words  arose  regarding  the  dispute.  After  returning 
from  Granchester,  when  the  boats  pulled  back  to 


CODLINGSBY.  93 


Christchurch  meadows,  the  disturbance  between  the 
Townsmen  and  the  University  youths — their  invaria 
ble  opponents — grew  louder  and  more  violent,  until  it 
broke  out  in  open  battle.  Sparring  and  skirmishing 
took  place  along  the  pleasant  fields  that  lead  from 
the  University  gate  down  to  the  broad  and  shining 
waters  of  the  Cam,  and  under  the  walls  of  Baliol  and 
Sidney  Sussex.  The  DUKE  OF  BELLAMONT  (then  a 
dashing  young  sizar  at  Exeter)  had  a  couple  of 
rounds  with  BILLY  BUTT,  the  bow  oar  of  the  Bargee 
boat.  VAVASOUR  of  Brazennose  was  engaged  with  a 
powerful  butcher,  a  well-known  champion  of  the 
Town  party,  when,  the  great  University  bells  ringing 
to  dinner,  truce  was  called  between  the  combatants, 
and  they  retired  to  their  several  colleges  for  refec 
tion. 

During  the  boat-race,  a  gentleman  pulling  in  a 
canoe,  and  smoking  a  Nargilly,  had  attracted  no  ordi 
nary  attention.  He  rowed  about  a  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  the  boats  in  the  race,  so  that  he  could  have 
a  good  view  of  that  curious  pastime.  If  the  eight- 
oars  neared  him,  with  a  few  rapid  strokes  of  his  flash 
ing  paddles  his  boat  shot  a  furlong  ahead ;  then  he 
would  wait,  surveying  the  race,  and  sending  up  vo 
lumes  of  odour  from  his  cool  Nargilly. 

"  Who  is  he  ?"  asked  the  crowds  who  panted  along 
the  shore,  encouraging,  according  to  Cambridge  wont, 
the  efforts  of  the  oarsmen  in  the  race.  Town  and 


94  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

Grown  alike  asked  who  it  was,  who,  with  an  ease  so 
provoking,  in  a  barque  so  singular,  with  a  form  seem 
ingly  so  slight,  but  a  skill  so  prodigious,  beat  their 
best  men.  No  answer  could  be  given  to  the  query, 
save  that  a  gentleman  in  a  dark  travelling-chariot, 
preceded  by  six  fourgons  and  a  courier,  had  arrived 
the  day  before  at  the  Hoop  Inn,  opposite  Brazennose, 
and  that  the  stranger  of  the  canoe  seemed  to  be  the 
individual  in  question. 

No  wonder  the  boat,  that  all  admired  so,  could 
compete  with  any  that  ever  was  wrought  by  Cam 
bridge  artificer  or  Putney  workman.  That  boat — 
slim,  shining,  and  shooting  through  the  water  like  a 
pike  after  a  small  fish — was  a  caique  from  Tophana  ; 
it  had  distanced  the  Sultan's  oarsmen,  and  the  best 
crews  of  the  Capitan  Pastia  in  the  Bosphorus  ;  it  was 
the  workmanship  of  TOGRUL-BEG,  Caikjee  Bashee 
of  his  Highness.  The  Bashee  had  refused  fifty 
thousand  tomauns  from  COUNT  BOUTENIEFF,  the  Rus 
sian  Ambassador,  for  that  little  marvel.  When  his 
head  was  taken  off,  the  Father  of  Believers  presented 
the  boat  to  RAFAEL  MENDOZA. 

It  was  RAFAEL  MENDOZA  that  saved  the  Turkish 
Monarchy  after  the  battle  of  Nezeeb.  By  sending 
three  millions  of  piastres  to  the  Seraskier  ;  by  bribing 
COLONEL  DE  ST.  CORNICHON,  the  French  envoy  in  the 
camp  of  the  victorious  IBRAHIM,  the  march  of  the 
Egyptian  army  was  stopped — the  menaced  empire  of 


CODLINGSBY.  95 


the  Ottomans  was  saved  from  ruin  ;  the  MARCHIONESS 
OF  STOKEPOGIS,  our  Ambassador's  lady,  appeared  in 
a  suit  of  diamonds  which  outblazed  even  the  Roman 
off  jewels,  and  RAFAEL  MENDOZA  obtained  the  little 
caique.  He  never  travelled  without  it.  It  was 
scarcely  heavier  than  an  arm-chair.  BARONI,  the 
courier,  had  carried  it  down  to  the. Cam  that  morning, 
and  RAFAEL  had  seen  the  singular  sport  which  we 
have  mentioned. 

The  dinner  over,  the  young  men  rushed  from 
their  colleges,  flushed,  full-fed,  and  eager  for  battle. 
If  the  Gown  was  angry,  the  Town,  too,  was  on  the 
alert.  From  Iffley  and  Barnwell,  from  factory  and 
mill,  from  wharf  and  warehouse,  the  Town  poured 
out  to  meet  their  enemy,  and  the  battle  was  soon 
general.  From  the  Addenbrook's  hospital  to  the 
Blenheim  turnpike,  all  Cambridge  was  in  an  uproar 
— the  College  gates  closed — the  shops  barricaded — 
the  shopboys  away  in  support  of  their  brother  towns 
men — the  battle  raged,  and  the  Gown  had  the  worst 
of  the  fight. 

A  luncheon  of  many  courses  had  been  provided 
for  RAFAEL  MENDOZA  at  his  inn,  but  he  smiled  at 
the  clumsy  efforts  of  the  University  cooks  to  enter 
tain  him,  and  a  couple  of  dates  and  a  glass  of  water 
formed  his  meal.  In  vain  the  discomfited  landlord 
pressed  him  to  partake  of  the  slighted  banquet.  "  A 
breakfast !  psha  !"  said  he.  "  My  good  man,  I  have 


96  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

nineteen  cooks,  at  salaries  rising  from  four  hundred 
a-year.  I  can  have  a  dinner  at  any  hour,  but  a  Town 
and  Gown  row  (a  brickbat  here  flying  through  the 
window,  crashed  the  caraffe  of  water  in  MENDOZA'S 
hand) — a  Town  and  Gown  row  is  a  novelty  to  me. 
The  Town  has  the  best  of  it,  clearly,  though  the 
men  outnumber  the  lads.  Ha>  a  good  blow  !  How 
that  tall  townsman  went  down  before  yonder  slim 
young  fellow  in  the  scarlet  trencher  cap." 

"  That  is  the  LORD  CODLINGSBY,"  the  landlord 
said. 

'•  A  light  weight,  but  a  pretty  fighter,"  MENDOZA 
remarked.  "  Well  hit  with  your  left,  LORD  COD 
LINGSBY  ;  well  parried,  LORD  CODLINGSBY  ;  claret 
drawn,  by  Jupiter  !  " 

"  Ours  is  werry  fine,''  the  landlord  said.  "  Will 
your  highness  have  Chateau  Margaux  or  Lafiitte  ?  " 

"  He  never  can  be  going  to  match  himself  against 
that  bargeman !  "  RAFAEL  exclaimed,  as  an  enormous 
boatman — no  other  than  RULLOCK — indeed,  the  most 
famous  bruiser  of  Cambridge,  and  before  whose  fists 
the  gownsmen  went  down  like  ninepins,  fought  his 
way  up  to  the  spot  where,  with  admirable  spirit  and 
resolution,  LORD  CODLINGSBY  and  one  or  two  of  his 
friends  were  making  head  against  a  number  of  the 
Town. 

The  young  noble  faced  the  huge  champion  with 
the  gallantry  of  his  race,  but  was  no  match  for  the 


CODLINGSBY.  97 


enemy's  strength,  and  weight,  and  sinew,  and  went 
down  at  every  round.  The  brutal  fellow  had  no 
mercy  on  the  lad.  His  savage  treatment  chafed 
MENDOZA  as  he  viewed  the  unequal  combat  from  the 
inn-window.  "  Hold  your  hand ! "  he  cried  to  this 
GOLIATH  ;  li  Don't  you  see  he's  but  a  boy  ?  " 

"  Down  he  goes  again  !  "  the  bargeman  cried,  not 
heeding  the  interruption.  "  Down  he  goes  again :  I 
likes  wapping  a  Lord  !  " 

"  Coward  !  "  shouted  MENDOZA  ;  and  to  fling  open 
the  window  amidst  a  shower  of  brickbats,  to  vault 
over  the  balcony,  to  slide  down  one  of  the  pillars  to 
the  ground,  was  an  instant's  work. 

At  the  next  he  stood  before  the  enormous  barge 
man. 

#  #  #  #  # 

After  the  Coroner's  Inquest,  MENDOZA  gave  ten 
thousand  pounds  to  each  of  the  bargeman's  ten  chil 
dren,  and  it  was  thus  his  first  acquaintance  was 
formed  with  LORD  CODLINGSBY. 

But  we  are  lingering  on  the  threshold  of  the  house 
in  Holywell  Street.  Let  us  go  in  ! 

III. 

GODFREY  and  RAFAEL  passed  from  the  street  into 
*he  outer  shop  of  the  old  mansion  in  Holywell  Street. 
It  was  a  masquerade  warehouse,  to  all  appearance. 


98 

A  dark-eyed  damsel  of  the  nation  was  standing  at 
the  dark  and  grimy  counter,  strewed  with  old  feathers, 
old  yellow  boots,  old  stage  mantles,  painted  masks, 
blind  and  yet  gazing  at  you  with  a  look  of  sad 
death-like  intelligence  from  the  vacancy  behind  their 
sockets. 

A  medical  student  was  trying  one  of  the  doublets 
of  orange-tawney  and  silver,  slashed  with  dirty  light 
blue.  He  was  going  to  a  masquerade  that  night.  He 
thought  POLLY  PATTENS  would  admire  him  in  the 
dress — POLLY  PATTENS,  the  fairest  of  maids-of-all- 
work — the  Borough  VENUS,  adored  by  half  the  youth 
of  GUY'S. 

"  You  look  like  a  Prince  in  it,  MR.  LINT,"  pretty 
RACHEL  said,  coaxing  him  with  her  beady  black 
eyes. 

"  It  is  the  cheese,"  replied  MR.  LINT  ;  "  it  ain't 
the  dress  that  don't  suit,  my  rose  of  Sharon ;  it's  the 
figure.  Hullo,  RAFAEL,  is  that  you,  my  lad  of  seal 
ing  wax?  Come  and  intercede  for  me  with  this  wild 
gazelle  ;  she  says  I  can't  have  it  under  fifteen  bob  for 
the  night.  And  it's  too  much :  cuss  me  if  it's  not 
too  much,  unless  you'll  take  my  little  bill  at  two 
months,  RAFAEL." 

"  There's  a  sweet  pretty  brigand's  dress  you  may 
have  for  half  de  monish,"  RAFAEL  replied ;  "  there's 
a  splendid  clown  for  eight  bob ;  but  for  dat  Spanish 
dress,  selp  ma  MOSHESH,  MISTRAER  LINT,  ve'd  ask  a 


CODLINGSBY.  99 


guinea  of  any  but  you.  Here's  a  gentlemansh  just 
come  to  look  at  it.  Look  ear,  ME.  BROWNSH,  did 
you  ever  shee  a  nisher  ting  dan  dat?"  So  saying, 
RAFAEL  turned  to  LORD  CODLINGSBY  with  the  utmost 
gravity,  and  displayed  to  him  the  garment  about 
which  the  young  Medicus  was  haggling. 

"  Cheap  at  the  money,"  CODLINGSBY  replied  ;  "  if 
you  won't  make  up  your  mind,  sir,  I  should  like  to 
engage  it  myself."  But  the  thought  that  another 
should  appear  before  POLLY  PATTENS  in  that  costume 
was  too  much  for  MR.  LINT  :  he  agreed  to  pay  the 
fifteen  shillings  for  the  garment.  And  RAFAEL,  pock 
eting  the  money  with  perfect  simplicity,  said  "  Dis 
vay,  MR.  BROWNSH  ;  dere's  someting  vill  shoot  you 
in  the  next  shop." 

LORD  CODLINGSBY  followed  him,  wondering. 

"  You  are  surprised  at  our  system,"  said  RAFAEL, 
marking  the  evident  bewilderment  of  his  friend.  "  Con 
fess  you  would  call  it  meanness — my  huxtering  with 
yonder  young  fool.  I  call  it  simplicity.  Why  throw 
away  a  shilling  without  need  ?  Our  race  never  did. 
A  shilling  is  four  men's  bread :  shall  I  disdain  to 
defile  my  fingers  by  holding  them  out  relief  in  their 
necessity  1  It  is  you  who  are  mean — you  Normans — 
not  we  of  the  ancient  race.  You  have  your  vulgar 
measurement  for  great  things  and  small.  You  call 
a  thousand  pounds  respectable,  and  a  shekel  despi 
cable.  Psha,  my  CODLINGSBY  !  One  is  as  the  other. 


100  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

I  trade  in  pennies  and  in  millions.  I  am  above  or 
below  neither." 

They  were  passing  through  a  second  shop,  smell 
ing  strongly  of  cedar,  and,  in  fact,  piled  up  with  bales 
of  those  pencils  which  the  young  Hebrews  are  in  the 
habit  of  vending  through  the  streets.  "  I  have  sold 
bundles  and  bundles  of  these,"  said  RAFAEL.  "  My 
little  brother  is  now  out  with  oranges  in  Piccadilly. 
I  am  bringing  him  up  to  be  head  of  our  house  at 
Amsterdam.  We  all  do  it.  I  had  myself  to  see 
ROTHSCHILD  in  Eaton  Place,  this  morning,  about  the 
Irish  loan,  of  which  I  have  taken  three  millions  ;  and 
as  I  wanted  to  walk,  I  carried  the  bag. 

"  You  should  have  seen  the  astonishment  of 
LAUDA  LATYMER,  the  ARCHBISHOP  OF  CROYDON'S 
daughter,  as  she  was  passing  to  St.  Bennet's,  Knights- 
bridge,  and  as  she  fancied  she  recognised  in  the 
man  who  was  crying  old  clothes  the  gentleman  with 
whom  she  had  talked  at  the  COUNT  DE  SAINT  Au- 
LAIRE'S  the  night  before."  Something  like  a  blush 
flushed  over  the  pale  features  of  MENDOZA  as  he 
mentioned  the  LADY  LAUDA'S  name.  "  Come  on," 
said  he.  They  passed  through  various  warehouses — 
the  cfrange  room,  the  sealing-wax  room,  the  six-bladed- 
knife  department,  and  finally  came  to  an  old  baize 
door.  RAFAEL  opened  the  baized  door  by  some 
secret  contrivance,  and  they  were  in  a  black  passage, 
with  a  curtain  at  the  end. 


CODLINGSBY.  101 


He  clapped  his  hands ;  the  curtain  at  the  end  of 
the  passage  drew  back,  and  a  flood  of  golden  light 
streamed  on  the  Hebrew  and  his  visitor. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THEY  entered  a  moderate-sized  apartment — in 
deed,  Holywell  Street  is  not  above  a  hundred  yards 
long,  and  this  chamber  was  not  more  than  half  that 
length — and  fitted  up  with  the  simple  taste  of  its 
owner. 

The  carpet  was  of  white  velvet — (laid  over  several 
webs  of  Aubusson,  Ispahan,  and  Axminster,  so  that 
your  foot  gave  no  more  sound  as  it  trod  upon  the 
yielding  plain  than  the  shadow  did  which  followed 
you) — of  white  velvet,  painted  with  flowers,  ara 
besques,  and  classic  figures,  by  SIR  *  WILLIAM  Ross, 
J.  M.  TURNER,  R.  A.,  MRS.  MEE,  and  PAUL  DELA- 
ROCHE.  The  edges  were  wrought  with  seed-pearls, 
and  fringed  with  Valenciennes  lace  and  bullion.  The 
walls  were  hung  with  cloth  of  silver,  embroidered 
with  gold  figures,  over  which  were  worked  pome 
granates,  polyanthuses,  and  passion-flowers,  in  ruby, 
amethyst,  and  sniaragd.  The  drops  of  dew  which  the 
artificer  had  sprinkled  on  the  flowers  were  diamonds. 
The  hangings  were  overhung  by  pictures  yet  more 
costly.  GIORGIONE  the  gorgeous,  TITIAN  the  golden, 


102  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

RUBENS  the  ruddy  and  pulpy  (the  PAN  of  Painting), 
some  of  MURILLO'S  beatified  shepherdesses,  who 
smile  on  you  out  of  darkness  like  a  star ;  a  few  score 
first-class  LEONARDOS,  and  fifty  of  the  master-pieces 
of  the  patron  of  JULIUS  and  LEO,  the  Imperial  genius 
of  URBINO,  covered  the  walls  of  the  little  chamber. 
Divans  of  carved  amber  covered  with  ermine  went 
round  the  room,  and  in  the  midst  was  a  fountain, 
pattering  and  babbling  with  jets  of  double-distilled 
otto  of  roses. 

"  Pipes,  GOLIATH  !  "  RAFAEL  said  gaily  to  a  little 
negro  with  a  silver  collar  (he  spoke  to  him  in  his 
native  tongue  of  Dongola) ;  "  and  welcome  to  our 
snuggery,  my  CODLINGSBY.  We  are  quieter  here  than 
in  the  front  of  the  house,  and  I  wanted  to  show  you 
a  picture.  I'm  proud  of  my  pictures.  That  LEO 
NARDO  came  from  Genoa,  and  was  a  gift  to  our  father 
from  my  cousin,  MARSHAL  MANASSEH  ;  that  MURILLO 
was  pawned  to  my  uncle  by  MARIE  ANTOINETTE  before 
the  flight  to  Yarennes — the  poor  lady  could  not 
redeem  the  pledge,  you  know,  and  the  picture  remains 
with  us.  As  for  the  RAFAEL,  I  suppose  you  are 
,  aware  that  he  was  one  of  our  people.  But  what  are 
you  gazing  at  ?  0  !  my  sister — I  forgot — MIRIAM  ! 
this  is  the  LORD  CODLINGSBY." 

She  had  been  seated  at  an  ivory  piano-forte  on  a 
mother-of-pearl  music-stool,  trying  a  sonata  of  HERZ. 


CODLING  SB  Y.  103 


She  rose  when  thus  apostrophised.     MIRIAM  DE  MEN- 
DOZA  rose  and  greeted  the  stranger. 

The  Talmud  relates  that  ADAM  had  two  wives — 
ZILLAH  the  dark  "beauty  ;  EVA  the  fair  one.  The 
ringlets  of  ZILLAH  were  black ;  those  of  EVA  were 
golden.  The  eyes  of  ZILLAH  were  night;  those  of 
EVA  were  morning.  CODLINGSBY  was  fair — of  the 
fair  Saxon  race  of  HENGIST  and  HORSA — they  called 
him  Miss  CODLINGSBY  at  school ;  but  how  much  fairer 
was  MIRIAM  the  Hebrew ! 

Her  hair  had  that  deep  glowing  tinge  in  it  which 
has  been  the  delight  of  all  painters,  and  which,  there 
fore,  the  vulgar  sneer  at.  It  was  of  burning  auburn. 
Meandering  over  her  fairest  shoulders  in  twenty 
thousand  minute  ringlets,  it  hung  to  her  waist  and 
below  it.  A  light  blue  velvet  fillet  clasped  with  a 
diamond  aigrette,  (valued  at  two  hundred  thousand 
tomauns,  and  bought  from  LIEUTENANT  VICOVICH,  who 
had  received  it  from  DOST  MAHOMED,)  with  a  simple 
bird  of  paradise  formed  her  head  gear.  A  sea-green 
cymar  with  short  sleeves,  displayed  her  exquisitely 
moulded  arms  to  perfection,  and  was  fastened  b}r  a 
girdle  of  emeralds  over  a  yellow  satin  frock.  Pink 
gauze  trousers  spangled  with  silver,  and  slippers  of 
the  same  colour  as  the  band  which  clasped  her  ring 
lets  (but  so  covered  with  pearls  that  the  original  hue 
of  the  charming  little  papoosh  disappeared  entirely) 
completed  her  costume.  She  had  three  necklaces  on, 


104  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

each  of  which  would  have  dowered  a  Princess — her 
fingers  glistened  with,  rings  to  their  rosy  tips,  and 
priceless  bracelets,  bangles,  and  armlets  wound  round 
an  arm  that  was  whiter  than  the  ivory  grand  piano 
on  which  it  leaned. 

As  MIRIAM  DE  MENDOZA  greeted  the  stranger, 
turning  upon  him  the  solemn  welcome  of  her  eyes, 
CODLINGSBY  swooned  almost  in  the  brightness  of  her 
beauty.  It  was  well  she  spoke;  the  sweet  kind 
voice  restored  him  to  consciousness.  Muttering  a 
few  words  of  incoherent  recognition,  he  sank  upon  a 
sandal-wood  settee,  as  GOLIATH,  the  little  slave, 
brought  aromatic  coffee  in  cups  of  opal,  and  alabaster 
spittoons,  and  pipes  of  the  fragrant  Gibelly. 

"  My  lord's  pipe  is  out,"  said  MIRIAM  with  a  smile, 
remarking  the  bewilderment  of  her  guest — who  in 
truth  forgot  to  smoke — and  taking  up  a  thousand 
pound  note  from  a  bundle  on  the  piano,  she  lighted 
it  at  the  taper  and  proceeded  to  re-illume  the  extin 
guished  chibouk  of  LORD  CODLINGSBY. 


IV. 


WHEN  MIRIAM,  returning  to  the  mother-of-pearl 
music-stool,  at  a  signal  from  her  brother,  touched  the 
silver  and  enamelled  keys  of  the  ivory  piano,  and  be 
gan  to  sing,  LORD  CODLINGSBY  felt  as  if  he  were  lis- 


CODLINGSBY.  105 


tening  at  the  gates  of  Paradise,  or  were  hearing  JENNY 
LIND. 

"  LIND  is  a  name  of  the  Hebrew  race ;  so  is  MEN 
DELSSOHN,  the  Son  of  Almonds  ;  so  is  ROSENTHAL,  the 
Valley  of  the  Roses ;  so  is  LOWE  or  LEWIS  or  LYONS 
or  LION — the  beautiful  and  the  brave  alike  give 
cognizances  to  the  ancient  people — you  Saxons  call 
yourselves  BROWN,  or  SMITH,  or  RODGERS,"  RAFAEL 
observed  to  his  friend  ;  and,  drawing  the  instrument 
from  his  pocket,  he  accompanied  his  sister,  in  the 
most  ravishing  manner,  on  a  little  gold  and  jewelled 
harp,  of  the  kind  peculiar  to  his  nation. 

All  the  airs  which  the  Hebrew  maid  selected 
were  written  by  composers  of  her  race  ;  it  was  either 
,a  hymn  by  ROSSINI,  a  polacca  by  BRAHAM,  a  delicious 
romance  by  SLOMAN,  or  a  melody  by  WEBER,  that, 
thrilling  on  the  strings  of  the  instrument,  wakened  a 
harmony  on  the  fibres  of  the  heart ;  but  she  sang  no 
other  than  the  songs  of  her  nation. 

"  Beautiful  one  !  sing  ever,  sing  always,"  COD 
LINGSBY  thought.  "  I  could  sit  at  thy  feet  as  under 
a  green  palm-tree,  and  fancy  that  Paradise-birds  were 
singing  in  the  boughs." 

RAFAEL  read  his  thoughts.  "  We  have  Saxon 
•lood  too  in  our  veins,"  he  said.  "  You  smile  ;  but  it 
is  even  so.  An  ancestress  of  ours  made  a  mesalliance 
in  the  reign  of  your  KING  JOHN.  Her  name  was 

REBECCA,  daughter  of  ISAAC  OF  YORK,  and  she  mar- 
5* 


106  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

ried  in  Spain,  whither  she  had  fled  to  the  Court  of 
KING  BOABDIL,  SIR  WILFRID  OF  IVANHOE,  then  a 
widower  by  the  demise  of  his  first  lady,  ROWENA. 
The  match  was  deemed  a  cruel  insult  amongst  our 
people ;  but  WILFRID  conformed,  and  was  a  Rabbi 
of  some  note  at  the  synagogue  at  Cordova.  We  are 
descended  from  him  lineally.  It  is  the  only  blot 
upon  the  escutcheon  of  the  MENDOZAS." 

As  they  sate  talking  together,  the  music  finished, 
and  MIRIAM  having  retired  (though  her  song  and  her 
beauty  were  still  present  to  the  soul  of  the  stranger) 
at  a  signal  from  MENDOZA,  various  messengers  from 
the  outer  apartments  came  in  to  transact  business 
with  him. 

First  it  was  MR.  AMINIDAB,  who  kissed  his  foot, 
and  brought  papers  to  sign.  "  How  is  the  house  in 
Grosvenor  Square,  AMINIDAB  ;  and  is  your  son  tired 
of  his  yacht  yet  ?  "  MENDOZA  asked.  "  That  is  my 
twenty-fourth  cashier,"  said  RAFAEL  to  CODLINGSBY, 
when  the  obsequious  clerk  went  away.  "  He  is  fond 
of  display,  and  all  my  people  may  have  what  money 
they  like." 

Entered  presently  the  LORD  BAREACRES,  ou  the 
affair  of  his  mortgage.  The  LORD  BAREACRES,  strut 
ting  into  the  apartment  with  a  haughty  air,  shrank 
back,  nevertheless,  with  surprise  on  beholding  the 
magnificence  around  him.  "  Little  MORDECAI,"  said 
RAFAEL  to  a  little  orange-boy,  who  came  in  at  the 


CODL1NGSBY.  107 


heels  of  the  noble,  "  take  this  gentleman  out  and  let 
him  have  ten  thousand  pounds.  I  can't  do  more  for 
you,  my  lord,  than  this — I'm  busy.  Good  bye  ! "  and 
RAFAEL  waved  his  hand  to  the  peer,  and  fell  to 
smoking  his  Nargilly. 

A  man  with  a  square  face,  cat-like  eyes,  and  a 
yellow  moustache,  came  next.  He  had  an  hour-glass 
of  a  waist,  and  walked  uneasily  upon  his  high-heeled 
boots.  "  Tell  your  master  that  he  shall  have  two 
millions  more,  but  not  another  shilling,"  RAFAEL 
said.  "  That  story  about  the  five-and-twenty  millions 
of  ready  money  at  Cronstadt  is  all  bosh.  They  won't 
believe  it  in  Europe.  You  understand  me,  Count 
GROGOMOFFSKI  ?  " 

"  But  his  Imperial  Majesty  said  four  millions,  and 
I  shall  get  the  knout  unless — " 

"  Go  and  speak  to  MR.  SHADRACH,  in  room  Z  94, 
the  fourth  Court."  said  MENDOZA  good-naturedly. 
"  Leave  me  at  peace,  Count ;  don't  you  see  it  is  Fri 
day,  and  almost  sunset?"  The  Calmuck  envoy  re 
tired  cringing,  and  left  an  odour  of  musk  and  candle- 
grease  behind  him. 

An  orange-man ;  an  emissary  from  LOLA  MONTES  ; 
a  dealer  in  piping  bulfinches  ;  and  a  Cardinal  in  dis 
guise,  with  a  proposal  for  a  new  loan  for  the  Pope, 
were  heard  by  turns,  and  each,  after  a  rapid  colloquy 
in  his  own  language,  was  dismissed  by  RAFAEL. 

"  The  QUEEN  must  come  back  from  Aranjuez,  or 


108  PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

that  king  must  be  disposed  of,"  RAFAEL  exclaimed, 
as  a  yellow-faced  ambassador  from  Spain,  GENERAL 
THE  DUKE  OF  OLLA  PODRIDA,  left  him.  "  Which 
shall  it  be,  my  CODLINGSBY  ? "  CODLINGSBY  was 
about  laughingly  to  answer,  for  indeed  he  was  amazed 
to  find  all  the  affairs  of  the  world  represented  here, 
and  Holy  well  Street  the  centre  of  Europe,  when  three 
knocks  of  a  peculiar  nature  were  heard,  and  MEN- 
DOZA,  starting  up,  said,  "  Ha !  there  are  onty  four 
men  in  the  world  who  know  that  signal."  At  once, 
and  with  a  reverence  quite  distinct  from  his  former 
nonchalant  manner,  he  advanced  towards  the  new 
comer. 

He  was  an  old  man — an  old  man  evidently,  too, 
of  the  Hebrew  race — the  light  of  his  eyes  was  un 
fathomable — about  his  mouth  there  played  an  inscru 
table  smile.  He  had  a  cotton  umbrella,  and  old 
trowsers,  and  old  boots,  and  an  old  wig,  curling  at 
the  top  like  a  rotten  old  pear. 

He  sate  down  as  if  tired,  in  the  first  seat  at  hand, 
as  RAFAEL  made  him  the  lowliest  reverence. 

"  I  am  tired,"  says  he ;  "I  have  come  in  fifteen 
hours.  I  am  ill  at  Neuilly,"  he  added  with  a  grin. 
"  Get  me  some  eau  sucree,  and  tell  me  the  news. 
PRINCE  DE  MENDOZA.  These  bread  rows ;  this  un 
popularity  of  G-UIZOT  ;  this  odious  Spanish  conspiracy 
against  my  darling  MONTPENSIER  and  daughter  ;  this 
ferocity  of  PALMERSTON  against  COLETTI,  make  me 


CODLINGSBY.  109 


quite  ill.  Give  me  your  opinion,  my  dear  duke.  But 
ha  !  whom  have  we  here  ?  " 

The  august  individual  who  had  spoken,  had  used 
the  Hebrew  language  to  address  MENDOZA,  and  the 
LORD  CODLINGSBY  might  easily  have  pleaded  igno 
rance  of  that  tongue.  But  he  had  been  at  Cam 
bridge,  where  all  the  youth  acquire  it  perfectly. 

"  Sire"  said  he,  "  I  will  not  disguise  from  you 
that  I  know  the  ancient  tongue  in  which  you  speak. 
There  are  probably  secrets  between  MENDOZA  and 
your  MAJ — " 

"  Hush ! "  said  RAFAEL,  leading  him  from  the 
room  :  "  Au  revoir,  dear  CODLINGSBY.  His  Majesty 
is  one  of  ws,"  he  whispered  at  the  door  ;  "  so  is  the 
Pope  of  Rome  ;  so  is  *  *  * " — a  whisper  con 
cealed  the  rest. 

"  Gracious  powers  !  is  it  so  ?  "  said  CODLINGSBY, 
musing.  He  •  entered  into  Holywell  Street.  The 
sun  was  sinking. 

"  It  is  time,"  said  he,  "  to  go  and  fetch  FIFINE  to 
the  Olympic." 


THE  FAT  CONTBIBUTOK. 


BRIGHTON. 

BY    THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

As  there  are  some  consumptive  travellers,  who,  by 
dodging  about  to  Italy,  to  Malta,  to  Madeira,  man 
age  to  cheat  the  winter,  and  for  whose  lungs  a  per 
petual  warmth  is  necessary ;  so  there  are  people  to 
whom,  in  like  manner,  London  is  a  necessity  of  exist 
ence,  and  who  follow  it  all  the  year  round.  Such  in 
dividuals,  when  London  goes  out  of  town,  follow  it  to 
Brighton,  which  is,  at  this  season,  London  plus  prawns 
for  breakfast  and  the  sea-air.  Blessings  on  the  sea- 
air,  which  gives  you  an  appetite  to  eat  them  ! 


You  may  get  a  decent  bed-room  and  sitting-room 
here  for  a  guinea  a  day.  Our  friends  the  BOTIBOLS 
have  three  rooms,  and  a  bedstead  disguised  like  a 
chest  of  drawers  in  the  drawing-room,  for  which  they 
pay  something  less  than  a  hundred  pounds  a  month. 
I  could  not  understand  last  night  why  the  old  gen 
tleman,  who  usually  goes  to  bed  early,  kept  yawning 


114  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

and  fidgetting  in  the  drawing-room  after  tea ;  until, 
with  some  hesitation,  he  made  the  confession  that  the 
apartment  in  question  was  his  bed-room,  and  revealed 
the  mystery  of  the  artful  chest  of  drawers.  BOTIBOL'S 
house  in  Bedford  Square  is  as  spacious  as  an  Italian 
palace :  the  second-floor  front,  in  which  the  worthy 
man  sleeps,  would  accommodate  a  regiment,  and  here 
they  squeeze  him  into  a  chijfonniere  !  How  MRS.  B. 
and  the  four  delightful  girls  can  be  stowed  away  in 
the  back  room,  I  tremble  to  think:  what  bachelor 
has  a  right  to  ask  ?  But  the  air  of  the  sea  makes  up 
for  the  closeness  of  the  lodgings.  I  have  just  seen 
them  on  the  Cliff — mother  and  daughters  were  all 
blooming  like  crimson  double  dahlias  ! 

You  meet  everybody  on  that  Cliff.  For  a  small 
charge  you  may  hire  the  very  fly  in  which  I  rode ; 
with  the  very  horse,  and  the  very  postilion,  in  a  pink 
striped  chintz  jacket — which  may  have  been  the  cover 
of  an  arm-chair  once — and  straight  whitey-brown 
hair,  and  little  wash-leather  inexpressibles,  the  cheap 
est  little  caricature  of  a  post-boy  eyes  have  ever 
lighted  on.  I  seldom  used  to  select  his  carriage,  for 
the  horse  and  vehicle  looked  feeble,  and  unequal  to 
bearing  a  person  of  weight ;  but,  last  Sunday,  I  saw 
an  Israelitish  family  of  distinction  ensconced  in  the 
poor  little  carriage — the  ladies  with  the  most  flaming 
polkas,  and  flounces  all  the  way  up ;  the  gent,  in  vel 
vet  waistcoat,  with  pins  in  his  breast  big  enough  once 


BRIGHTON.  115 


to  have  surmounted  the  door  of  his  native  pawn 
broker's  shop,  and  a  complement  of  hook-nosed  chil 
dren,  magnificent  in  attire.  Their  number  and  mag 
nificence  did  not  break  the  carriage  down ;  the  little 
postilion  bumped  up  and  down  as  usual,  as  the  old 
horse  went  his  usual  pace.  How  they  spread  out, 
and  basked,  and  shone,  and  were  happy  in  the  sun 
there  —  those  honest  people  !  The  Mosaic  Arabs 
abound  here  ;  and  they  rejoice  and  are  idle  with  a 
grave  and  solemn  pleasure,  as  becomes  their  Eastern 
origin. 

If  you  don't  mind  the  expense,  hire  a  ground- 
floor  window  on  the  Cliff,  and  examine  the  stream  of 
human  nature  which  passes  by.  That  stream  is  a 
league  in  length ;  it  pours  from  Brunswick  Terrace 
to  Kemp  Town,  and  then  tumbles  back  again ;  and 
so  rolls,  and  as  it  rolls  perpetually,  keeps  rolling  on 
from  three  o'clock  till  dinner-time. 

Ha  !  what  a  crowd  of  well-known  London  faces 
you  behold  here — only  the  sallow  countenances  look 
pink  now,  and  devoid  of  care.  I  have  seen  this  very 
day,  at  least — 

Forty-nine  Railroad  directors,  who  would  have 
been  at  Baden-Baden  but  for  the  lines  in  pro 
gress  ;  and  who,  though  breathing  the  fresh 
air,  are  within  an  hour  and  a  half  of  the  City. 

Thirteen  barristers,  of  more  or  less  repute,  in 
cluding  the  SOLICITOR-GENERAL  himself,  whose 


116  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

open  and  jovial  countenance  beamed  with  be 
nevolence  upon  the  cheerful  scene. 
A  Hebrew  dentist  driving  a  curricle. 
At  least  twelve  well-known  actors  or  actresses. 
It  went  to  my  heart  to  see  the  most  fashion 
able  of  them,  driving  about  in  a  little  four- 
wheeled  pony-chaise,  the  like  of  which  might 
be  hired  for  five  shillings. 

Then  you  have  tight-laced  dragoons,  trotting  up 
and  down  with  solemn,  handsome,  stupid  faces,  and 
huge  yellow  mustachios.  Myriads  of  flies,  laden  with 
happy  cockneys ;  pathetic  invalid  chairs  trail  along, 
looking  too  much  like  coffins  already,  in  which  poor 
people  are  brought  out  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  sun. 
Grand  equipages  are  scarce  ;  I  saw  LADY  WILHELMI- 
NA  WIGGINS'S  lovely  nose  and  auburn  ringlets  peep 
ing  out  of  a  cab,  hired  at  half-a-crown  an  hour, 
between  her  ladyship  and  her  sister,  the  PRINCESS 
OYSTEROWSKI. 

#  #  #  #  # 

The  old  gentleman  who  began  to  take  lessons 
when  we  were  here  three  years  ago,  at  the  Tepid 
Swimming  Bath,  with  the  conical  top,  I  am  given  to 
understand  is  still  there,  and  may  be  seen  in  the 
water,  from  nine  till  five. 


MEDITATIONS  OVER  BRIGHTON. 

BY    "PUNCH'S"    COMMISSIONER. 

(From  (he  DevWs  Dyke.) 

WHEN  the  exultant  and  long-eared  animal  describ 
ed  in  the  fable  revelled  madly  in  the  frog-pond, 
dashing  about  his  tail  and  hoof  among  the  unfortu 
nate  inhabitants  of  that  piece  of  water,  it  is  stated, 
that  the  frogs  remonstrated,  exclaiming,  "  Why,  0 
donkey,  do  you  come  kicking  about  in  our  habita 
tion  ?  It  may  be  good  fun  to  you  to  lash  out,  and 
plunge,  and  kick  in  this  absurd  manner,  but  it  is 
death  to  us  ;  "  on  which  the  good-natured  quadruped 
agreed  to  discontinue  his  gambols  ;  and  left  the  frogs 
to  bury  their  dead  and  rest  henceforth  undisturbed 
in  their  pool. 

The  inhabitants  of  Brighton  are  the  frogs — and 
I  dare  say  they  will  agree  as  to  the  applicability  of 
the  rest  of  the  simile.  It  might  be  good  fun  to  me 
to  "  mark  their  manners,  and  their  ways  survey  ;  " 
but  could  it  be  altogether  agreeable  to  them  ?  I  am 


118  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

sorry  to  confess  it  has  not  proved  so,  having  received 
at  least  three  hundred  letters  of  pathetic  remon 
strance,  furious  complaint,  angry  swagger,  and  threat 
ening  omens,  entreating  me  to  leave  the  Brighto- 
nians  alone.  The  lodging-house  keepers  are  up  in 
arms.  MRS.  SCREW  says  she  never  let  her  lodgings 
at  a  guinea  a  day,  and  invites  me  to  occupy  her 
drawing  and  bed-room  for  five  guineas  a  week.  MR. 
SQUEEZER  swears  that  a  guinea  a  day  is  an  atrocious 
calumny  :  he  would  turn  his  wife,  his  children,  and 
his  bed-ridden  mother  in-law  out  of  doors  if  he  could 
get  such  a  sum  for  the  rooms  they  occupy — (but  this, 
I  suspect  is  a  pretext  of  SQUEEZER'S  to  get  rid  of  his 
mother-in-law,  in  which  project  I  wish  him  luck). 
MRS.  SLOP  hopes  she  may  never  again  cut  a  slice  out 
of  a  lodger's  joint  (the  cannibal !)  if  she  won't  be 
ready  at  the  most  crowdidest  of  seasons  to  let  her  first- 
floor  for  six  pounds :  and  finally,  MR.  SKIVER  writes  : 
— "  Sir, — your-ill  advised  publication  has  passed  like 
a  whirlwind  over  the  lodging-houses  of  Brighton. 
You  have  rendered  our  families  desolate,  and  prema 
turely  closed  our  season.  As  you  have  destroyed  the 
lodging-houses,  couldn't  you.  now,  walk  into  the  board 
ing-houses,  and  say  a  kind  word  to  ruin  the  hotels  ?  " 
And  is  it  so  ?  Is  the  power  of  the  Commission 
er's  eye  so  fatal  that  it  withers  the  object  on  which  it 
falls  ?  Is  the  condition  of  his  life  so  dreadful  that 
he  destroys  all  whom  he  comes  near  ?  Have  I  made 


MEDITATIONS    OVER    BRIGHTON.  119 

a  post-boy  wretched — five  thousand  lodging-house 
keepers  furious — twenty  thousand  Jews  unhappy? 
If  so,  and  I  really  possess  a  power  so  terrible,  I  had 
best  come  out  in  the  tragic  line. 

I  went,  pursuant  to  orders,  to  the  Swiss  Cottage, 
at  Shoreham,  where  the  first  object  that  struck  my 
eye  was  a  scene,  in  the  green  lake  there,  which  I  am 
credibly  informed  is  made  of  pea-soup  :  two  honest 
girls  were  rowing  about  their  friend  on  this  enchant 
ing  water.  There  was  a  cloudless  sky  overhead — 
rich  treats  were  advertised  for  the  six  frequenters  of 
the  gardens  ;  a  variety  of  entertainments  was  an 
nounced  in  the  Hall  of  Amusement. — MR.  and  MRS. 
AMINADAB  (here,  too,  the  Hebrews  have  penetrated) 
were  advertised  as  about  to  sing  some  of  their  most 
favourite  comic  songs  and  *  *  * 

But  no,  I  will  not  describe  the  place.  Why  should 
my  fatal  glance  bring  a  curse  upon  it  ?  The  pea- 
soup  lake  would  dry  up — leaving  its  bed  a  vacant 
tureen — the  leaves  would  drop  from  the  scorched 
trees — the  pretty  flowers  would  wither  and  fade — the 
rockets  would  not  rise  at  night,  nor  the  rebel  wheels 
go  round — the  money-taker  at  the  door  would  grow 
mouldy  and  die  in  his  moss-grown  and  deserted  cell. 
— AMINADAB  would  lose  his  engagement.  Why  should 
these  things  be,  and  this  ruin  occur  ?  James  !  pack 
the  portmanteau  and  tell  the  landlord  to  bring  the 


120  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

bill ;  order  horses  immediately — this  day  I  will  quit 
Brighton. 

Other  appalling  facts  have  come  to  notice :  all 
showing  more  or  less  the  excitement  created  by  my 
publication. 

The  officers  of  the  150th  Hussars,  accused  of 
looking  handsome,  solemn,  and  stupid,  have  had  a 
meeting  in  the  mess-room,  where  the  two  final  epi 
thets  have  been  rescinded  in  a  string  of  resolutions. 

But  it  is  the  poor  yellow-breeched  postilion  who  has 
most  suffered.  When  the  picture  of  him  came  out, 
crowds  flocked  to  see  him.  He  was  mobbed  all  the 
way  down  the  Cliff;  wherever  he  drove  his  little 
phaeton,  people  laughed,  and  pointed  with  the  finger 
and  said.  "  That  is  he."  The  poor  child  was  thus 
made  the  subject  of  public  laughter  by  my  interfer 
ence — and  what  has  been  the  consequence?  In 
order  to  disguise  him  as  much  as  possible,  his  Master 
has  bought  him  a  hat. 

The  children  of  Israel  are  in  a  fury  too.  They 
do  not  like  to  ride  in  flies  since  my  masterly  repre 
sentation  of  them  a  fortnight  since.  They  are  giv 
ing  up  their  houses  daily.  You  read  in  the  Brighton 

papers,  among  the  departures,  " NEBUZARADAN, 

Esq.,  and  family  for  London;"  or  SOLOMON  RAMOTH- 
GILEAD,  Esq.,  has  quitted  his  mansion  in  Marine  Cres 
cent  ;  circumstances  having  induced  him  to  shorten 
his  stay  among  us ,"  and  so  on.  The  people  emi- 


MEDITATIONS    OVER    BRIGHTON.  121 

grate  by  hundreds ;  they  can't  bear  to  be  made  the 
object  of  remark  in  the  public  walks  and  drives — and 
they  are  flying  from  a  city  of  which  they  might  have 
made  a  new  Jerusalem. 


A  BRIGHTON  NIGHT   ENTERTAINMENT. 


BY    PUNCH  S    COMMISSIONER. 


I  HAVE  always  had  a  taste  for  the  second-rate  in 
life.  Second-rate  poetry,  for  instance,  is  an  uncom 
mon  deal  pleasanter  to  my  fancy  than  your  great 
thundering  first-rate  epic  poems.  Your  MILTONS  and 
D ANTES  are  magnificent, — "but  ajhfire. :  whereas  an 
ode  of  HORACE,  or  a  song  of  TOMMY  MOORE,  is  always 
fresh,  sparkling,  and  welcome.  Second-rate  claret, 
again,  is  notoriously  better  than  first-rate  wine :  you 
get  the  former  genuine,  whereas  the  latter  is  a  loaded 
and  artificial  composition  that  cloys  the  palate  and 
bothers  the  reason. 

Second-rate  beauty  in  women  is  likewise,  I  main 
tain,  more  agreeable  than  first-rate  charms.  Your 
first-rate  Beauty  is  grand,  severe,  awful — a  faultless, 
frigid  angel  of  five  feet  nine — superb  to  behold  at 
church,  or  in  the  park,  or  at  a  drawing-room — but  ah  ! 
how  inferior  to  a  sweet  little  second-rate  creature, 
with  smiling  eyes,  and  a  little  second-rate  nez  re- 
trousst,  with  which  you  fall  in  love  in  a  minute. 


A    BRIGHTON    NTGHT    ENTERTAINMENT.  123 

Second-rate  novels  I  also  assert  to  be  superior  to 
the  best  works  of  fiction.  They  give  you  no  trouble 
to  read,  excite  no  painful  emotions — you  go  through 
them  with  a  gentle,  languid,  agreeable  interest.  MR. 
JAMES'S  romances  are  perfect  in  this  way.  ^  The  ne 
plus  ultra  of  indolence  may  be  enjoyed  during  their 
perusal. 

For  the  same  reason,  I  like  second-rate  theatrical 
entertainments — a  good  little  company  in  a  provincial 
town,  acting  good  old  stupid  stock  comedies  and  farces ; 
where  nobody  comes  to  the  theatre,  and  you  may  lie 
at  ease  in  the  pit,  and  get  a  sort  of  intimacy  with 
each  actor  and  actress,  and  know  every  bar  of  the 
music  that  the  three  or  four  fiddlers  of  the  little  or 
chestra  play  throughout  the  season. 

The  Brighton  Theatre  would  be  admirable  but 
for  one  thing — MR.  HOOPER,  the  Manager,  will  per 
sist  in  having  Stars  down  from  London — blazing 
MACREADYS,  resplendent  Miss  CUSHMANS,  fiery  WAL- 
LACKS,  and  the  like.  On  these  occasions  it  is  very 
possible  that  the  house  may  be  filled  and  the  Mana 
ger's  purpose  answered ;  but  where  does  all  your 
comfort  go  then1?  You  can't  loll  over  four  benches 
in  the  pit — you  are  squeezed  and  hustled  in  an  in 
convenient  crowd  there — you  are  fatigued  by  the  per 
petual  struggles  of  the  apple-and-ginger-beer  boy,  who 
will  pass  down  your  row — and  for  what  do  you  un 
dergo  this  labour  ?  To  see  Hamlet  and  Lady  Mac- 


124  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOK. 


j  forsooth  !  as  if  every  body  had  not  seen  them  a 
thousand  times.  No,  on  such  star  nights  "  The  Com 
missioner  "  prefers  a  walk  on  the  Cliff  to  the  charms 
of  the  Brighton  Theatre.  I  can  have  first-rate  trag 
edy  in  London  :  in  the  country  give  me  good  old 
country  fare  —  the  good  old  comedies  and  farces  —  the 
dear  good  old  melodramas. 

We  had  one  the  other  day  in  perfection.  We 
were,  I  think,  about  four  of  us  in  the  pit  ;  the  ginger- 
beer  boy  might  wander  about  quite  at  his  ease.  There 
was  a  respectable  family  in  a  private  box,  and  some 
pleasant  fellows  in  the  gallery  ;  and  we  saw,  with 
leisure  and  delectation,  that  famous  old  melodrama, 
The  Warlock  of  the  Glen. 

In  a  pasteboard  cottage,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  there  lived  once  a  fisherman,  who  had 
a  little  canvass  boat,  in  which  it  is  a  wonder  he  was 
never  swamped,  for  the  boat  was  not  above  three  feet 
long  ;  and  I  was  astonished  at  his  dwelliog  in  the 
cottage,  too  ;  for,  though  a  two-storied  one,  it  was  not 
above  five  feet  high  ;  and  I  am  sure  the  fisherman 
was  six  feet  without  his  shoes. 

As  he  was  standing  at  the  door  of  his  cot,  looking 
at  some  young  persons  of  the  neighbourhood  who  were 
dancing  a  reel,  a  scream  was  heard,  as  issuing  from 
the  neighbouring  forest,  and  a  lady  with  dishevelled 
hair,  and  a  beautiful  infant  in  her  hand,  rushed  in. 
What  meant  that  scream?  We  were  longing  to 


A    BRIGHTON    NIGHT    ENTERTAINMENT.  Ik25 

know,  but  the  gallery  insisted  on  the  reel  over  again, 
and  the  poor  injured  lady  had  to  wait  until  the  dance 
was  done  before  she  could  explain  her  unfortunate 
case. 

It  was  briefly  this  :  she  was  no  other  than  Adela^ 
Countess  of  Glencairn ;  the  boy  in  her  hand  was 
Glencairris  only  child :  three  years  since  her  gallant 
husband  had  fallen  in  fight,  or,  worse  still,  by  the 
hand  of  the  assassin. 

He  had  left  a  brother,  Clanronald.  What  was 
the  conduct  of  that  surviving  relative  ?  Was  it  fra 
ternal  towards  the  widowed  Adela  ?  Was  it  avun 
cular  to  the  orphan  boy  ?  Ah,  no  !  For  three  years 
he  had  locked  her  up  in  his  castle,  under  pretence 
that  she  was  mad,  pursuing  her  all  the  while  with  his 
odious  addresses.  But  she  loathed  his  suit ;  and, 
refusing  to  become  Mrs.  (or  Lady)  Clanronald,  took 
this  opportunity  to  escape  and  fling  herself  on  the 
protection  of  the  loyal  vassals  of  her  lord. 

She  had  hardly  told  her  pathetic  tale  when  voices 
were  heard  without.  Cries  of  "  Follow  !  follow  ! "  re 
sounded  through  the  wildwood ;  the  gentlemen  and 
ladies  engaged  in  the  reel  fled,  and  the  Countess  and 
her  child,  stepping  into  the  skiff,  disappeared  down 
a  slote.  to  the  rage  and  disappointment  of  Clanronald, 
who  now  arrived — a  savage-looking  nobleman  indeed  ! 
and  followed  by  two  ruffians,  of  most  ferocious  aspect, 
and  having  in  their  girdles  a  pair  of  those  little 


126  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

notched  dumpy  swords,  with  round  iron  hilts  to  guard 
the  knuckles,  by  which  I  knew  that  a  combat  would 
probably  take  place  ere  long.  And  the  result  proved 
that  I  was  right. 

Flying  along  the  wild  margent  of  the  sea,  in  the 
next  act,  the  poor  Adda  was  pursued  by  Clatiro- 
nald ;  but  though  she  jumped  into  the  waves  to  avoid 
him,  the  unhappy  lady  was  rescued  from  the  briny 
element,  and  carried  back  to  her  prison  ;  Clanronald 
swearing  a  dreadful  oath  that  she  should  marry  him 
that  very  day. 

He  meanwhile  gave  orders  to  his  two  ruffians, 
Murdoch  and  Hamish,  to  pursue  the  little  boy  into 
the  wood,  and  there — there  murder  him. 

But  there  is  always  a  power  in  melodramas  that 
watches  over  innocence ;  and  these  two  wretched 
ones  were  protected  by  THE  WARLOCK  OP  THE  GLEN. 

All  through  their  misfortunes,  this  mysterious 
being  watched  them  with  a  tender  interest.  When 
the  two  ruffians  were  about  to  murder  the  child,  he 
and  the  fisherman  rescued  him — their  battle  swords 
(after  a  brief  combat  of  four)  sank  powerless  before 
his  wizard  staff,  and  they  fled  in  terror. 

Haste  we  to  the  Castle  of  Grlencairn.  What  cer 
emony  is  about  to  take  place  ?  What  has  assembled 
those  two  noblemen,  and  those  three  ladies  in  calico 
trains  ?  A  marriage  !  But  what  a  union  !  The  lady 
Adela  is  dragged  to  the  chapel-door  by  the  trusculent 


A  BRIGHTON  NIGHT  ENTERTAINMENT.      127 

Clanronald.  "Lady,"  he  says,  "you  are  mine.  Re 
sistance  is  unavailing.  Submit  with  good  grace. 
Henceforth,  what  power  on  earth  can  separate  you 
from  me  ?  " 

"  MINE  CAN,"  cries  the  Warlock  of  the  Glen,  rush 
ing  in.  '•  Tyrant  and  assassin  of  thy  brother  !  know 
that  Glencairn — Grlencairn,  thy  brother  and  Lord, 
whom  thy  bravos  were  commissioned  to  slay — know 
that,  for  three  years,  a  solemn  vow  (sworn  to  the  vil 
lain  that  spared  his  life,  and  expired  yesterday)  bound 
him  never  to  reveal  his  existence — know  that  he  is 
near  at  hand ;  and  repent,  while  yet  there  is  time," 

The  lady  Adela's  emotion  may  be  guessed  when 
she  heard  this  news :  but  Clanronald,  received  it  with 
contemptuous  scepticism.  "  And  where  is  this  dead 
man  come  alive  ?  "  laughed  he. 

"He  ie  HERE,"  shouted  the  Warlock  of  the  Glen: 
and  to  fling  away  his  staff — to  dash  off  his  sham  beard 
and  black  gown — to  appear  in  a  red  dress,  with  tights 
and  yellow  boots,  as  became  Glencairn's  earl — was 
the  work  of  a  moment.  The  Countess  recognized 
him  with  a  scream  of  joy.  Clanronald  retired,  led 
off  by  two  soldiers  ;  and  the  joy  of  the  Earl  and 
Countess  was  completed  by  the  arrival  of  their  only 
son  (a  clever  little  girl  of  the  Hebrew  persuasion)  in 
the  arms  of  the  fisherman. 

The  curtain  fell  on  this  happy  scene.  The  fiddlers 
had  ere  this  disappeared.  The  ginger-beer  boy  went 


128  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

home  to  a  virtuous  family,  that  was  probably  looking 
out  for  him.  The  respectable  family  in  the  boxes 
went  off  in  a  fly.  The  little  audience  spread  abroad, 
and  were  lost  in  the  labyrinths  of  the  city.  The 
lamps  of  the  Theatre  Royal  were  extinguished :  and 
all — all  was  still. 


BRIGHTON    IN    1847. 

BY    THE    F.    C. 
I. 

HAVE  the  kindness,  my  dear  PUGSBY,  to  despatch 
me  a  line  when  they  have  done  painting  the  smoking- 
room  at  the  Megatherium,  that  I  may  come  back  to 
town.  After  suffering  as  we  have  all  the  year,  not 
so  much  from  the  bad  ventilation  of  the  room,  as 
from  the  suffocating  dulness  of  WHEEZER,  SNOOZER, 
and  WHIFFLER,  who  frequent  it.  I  had  hoped  for 
quiet  by  the  sea-shore  here,  and  that  our  three  abom 
inable  acquaintances  had  quitted  England. 

I  had  scarcely  been  ten  minutes  in  the  place,  my 
ever  dear  PUGSBY,  when  I  met  old  SNOOZER  walking 
with  young  DE  BOSKY,  of  the  Tatters-and-Starvation 
Club,  on  the  opposite  side  of  our  square,  and  ogling 
the  girls  on  the  Cliff,  the  old  wretch,  as  if  he  had  not 
a  wife  and  half-a-dozen  daughters  of  his  own,  in 
Pocklington  Square.  He  hooked  on  to  my  arm  as 
if  he  had  been  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  and  I  found 

myself  introduced  to  young  DE  BOSKY,  a  man  whom 

6* 


130  THE   FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

I  have  carefully  avoided  as  an  odious  and  disrepu 
table  tiger,  the  tuft  on  whose  chin  has  been  always 
particularly  disagreeable  to  me,  and  who  is  besides 
a  Captain,  or  Commodore,  or  some  such  thing,  in  the 
Bundelcund  Cavalry.  The  clink  and  glitter  of  his 
spurs  is  perfectly  abominable :  he  is  screwed  so  tight 
in  his  waistband  that  I  wish  it  could  render  him 
speechless  (for  when  he  does  speak  he  is  so  stupid 
that  he  sends  you  to  sleep  while  actually  walking 
with  him) ;  and  as  for  his  chest,  which  he  bulges  out 
against  the  shoulders  of  all  the  passers-by,  I  am  sure 
that  he  carries  a  part  of  his  wardrobe  in  it,  and  that 
he  is  wadded  with  stockings  and  linen  as  if  he  were 
a  walking  carpet-bag. 

This  fellow  saluted  two-thirds  of  the  carriages 
which  passed,  with  a  knowing  nod,  and  a  military 
swagger  so  arrogant,  that  I  feel  continually  the  great 
est  desire  to  throttle  him. 

Well,  Sir,  before  we  had  got  from  the  Tepid 
Swimming  Bath  to  MUTTON'S  the  pastrycook's,  whom 
should  we  meet  but  WHEEZER,  to  be  sure.  WHEEZER, 
driving  up  and  down  the  Cliff  at  half-a-crown  an  hour, 
with  his  hideous  family,  MRS.  WHEEZER,  the  Miss 
WHEEZERS  in  fur  tippets  and  drawn  bonnets  with 
spring-flowers  in  them,  a  huddle  and  squeeze  of  little 
WHEEZERS  sprawling  and  struggling  on  the  back 
seat  of  the  carriage,  and  that  horrible  boy  whom 
WHEEZER  brings  to  the  Club  sometimes,  actually 


BRIGHTON    IN   184T.  131 

seated  on  the  box  of  the  fly,  and  ready  to  drive,  if 
the  coachman  should  be  intoxicated  or  inclined  to 
relinquish  his  duty. 

WHEEZER  sprang  out  of  the  vehicle  with  a  cordi 
ality  that  made  me  shudder.  "  Hullo,  my  boy  !"  said 
he,  seizing  my  trembling  hand.  "  What !  you  here  ? 
Hang  me  if  the  whole  Club  isn't  here.  I'm  at  56, 
Horse  Marine  Parade.  Where  are  you  lodging? 
We're  out  for  a  holiday,  and  will  make  a  jolly  time 
of  it." 

The  benighted,  the  conceited  "old  wretch  !  He 
would  not  let  go  my  hand  until  I  told  him  where  I 
resided — at  MRS.  MUGGERIDGE'S  in  Black  Lion  Street, 
where  I  have  a  tolerable  view  of  the  sea,  if  I  risk  the 
loss  of  my  equilibrium  and  the  breakage  of  my  back, 
by  stretching  three  quarters  of  my  body  out  of  my 
drawing-room  window. 

As  he  stopped  to  speak  to  me,  his  carriage  of 
course  stopped  likewise,  forcing  all  the  vehicles  in 
front  and  behind  him,  to  halt  or  to  precipitate  them 
selves  over  the  railings  on  to  the  shingles  and  the 
sea.  The  cabs,  the  flys,  the  shandrydans,  the  sedan- 
chairs  with  the  poor  old  invalids  inside ;  the  old 
maids',  the  dowagers'  chariots,  out  of  which  you  see 
countenances  scarcely  less  deathlike  ;  the  stupendous 
cabs,  out  of  which  the  whiskered  heroes  of  the  gallant 
Onety-oneth  look  down  on  us  people  on  foot;  the 
hacks  mounted  by  young  ladies  from  the  equestrian 


132  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

schools,  by  whose  sides  the  riding-masters  canter 
confidentially — everybody  stopped.  There  was  a 
perfect  strangury  in  the  street ;  and  I  should  have 
liked  not  only  to  throttle  DE  BOSKY,  but  to  massacre 
WHEEZER,  too. 

The  wretched  though  unconscious  being  insisted 
on  nailing  me  for  dinner  before  he  would  leave  me  ; 
and  I  heard  him  say  (that  is.  by  the  expression  of 
his  countenance,  and  the  glances  which  his  wife  and 
children  cast  at  me,  I  knew  he  said),  "  That  is  the 
young  and  dashing  EOLKSTONE  CANTERBURY,  the  cele 
brated  contributor  to  Punch" 

The  crowd,  Sir,  on  the  Cliff  was  perfectly  fright 
ful.  It  is  my  belief  nobody  goes  abroad  any  more. 
Everybody  is  at  Brighton.  I  met  three  hundred  at 
least  of  our  acquaintances  in  the  course  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  before  we  could  reach  Brunswick 
Square  I  met  dandies.  City  men,  Members  of  Parlia 
ment.  I  met  my  tailor  walking  with  his  wife,  with 
a  geranium  blooming  in  his  wretched  button-hole,  as 
if  money  wasn't  tight  in  the  City,  and  everybody  had 
paid  him  everything  everybody  owed  him.  I  turned 
and  sickened  at  the  sight  of  that  man.  ':  SNOOZER," 
said  I,  "  I  will  go  on  the  Pier." 

I  went,  and  to  find  what? — WHIFFLER,  by  all 
that  is  unmerciful ! — WHIFFLER,  whom  we  see  every 
day,  in  the  same  chair,  at  the  Megatherium.  WHIF 
FLER,  whom  not  to  see  is  to  make  all  the  good  fellows 


BRIGHTON    IN    184T.  133 


at  the  Club  happy.  I  have  seen  him  every  day,  and 
many  times  a  day  since.  At  the  moment  of  our  first 
rencontre  I  was  so  saisi,  so  utterly  overcome  by  rage 
and  despair,  that  I  would  have  flung  myself  into  the 
azure  waves  sparkling  calmly  around  me.  but  for  the 
chains  of  the  Pier. 

I  did  not  take  that  aqueous  suicidal  plunge — I 
resolved  to  live,  and  why,  my  dear  PUGSBY  ?  Who 
do  you  think  approached  us  ?  Were  you  not  at  one 
of  his  parties  last  season  ?  I  have  polked  in  his  sa 
loons,  I  have  nestled  under  the  mahogany  of  his 
dining-room,  at  least  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
times.  It  was  MR.  GOLDMORE,  the  East  India  Di 
rector,  with  MRS.  Gr.  on  his  arm,  and — oh,  Heavens  ! 
— FLORENCE  and  VIOLET  GOLDMORE,  with  pink  para 
sols,  walking  behind  their  parents  ! 

"  What,  you  here  ? "  said  the  good  and  hospitable 
man,  holding  out  his  hand,  and  giving  a  slap  on  the 
boards  (or  deck  I  may  say)  with  his  bamboo,  "  hang 
it,  every  one's  here.  Come  and  dine  at  seven.  Bruns 
wick  Square." 

I  looked  in  VIOLET'S  eyes.  FLORENCE  is  rather 
an  old  bird,  and  wears  spectacles,  so  that  looking  in 
her  eyes  is  out  of  the  question.  I  looked  in  VIOLET'S 
2yes.  and  said  I'd  come  with  the  greatest  pleasure. 

"  As  for  you,  DE  BOSKY  " — (I  forget  whether  I 
mentioned  that  the  whiskered  Bundelcund  buck  had 
come  with  me  on  to  the  Pier,  whither  SNOOZER  would 


134  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

not  follow  us,  declining  to  pay  the  twopence) — "  as  for 
you,  DE  BOSKY,  you  may  come,  or  not,  as  you  like." 

"  Won't  I,"  said  he,  grinning,  with  a  dandified 
Bundelcund  nod,  and  wagging  his  odious  head. 

I  could  have  wrenched  it  off  and  flung  it  to  the 
ocean.  But  I  restrained  my  propensity,  and  we 
agreed,  that,  for  the  sake  of  economy,  we  would  go 
to  MR.  G-OLDMORE'S  in  the  same  fly. 

II. 

THE  very  first  spoonful  of  the  clear  soup  at  the 
Director's,  told  me  that  my  excellent  friend  PARADOL 
(the  chef  who  came  to  MR.  GOLDMORE,  Portland  Place, 
when  Gottlebury  House  was  shut  up  by  the  lamented 
levanting  of  the  noble  Earl)  was  established  among 
the  furnaces  below.  A  clear,  brown  soup — none  of 
your  filthy,  spiced,  English  hell-broths,  but  light, 
brisk,  and  delicate — always  sets  me  off  for  the  evening : 
it  invigorates  and  enlivens  me,  my  dear  PUGSBY  :  I 
give  you  my  honour  it  does — and  when  I  am  in  a  good 
humour,  I  am,  I  flatter  myself — what  shall  I  say? — 
well,  not  disagreeable. 

On  this  day,  Sir,  I  was  delightful.  Although 
that  booby  DE  BOSKY  conducted  Miss  VIOLET  GOLD- 
MORE  down  stairs,  yet  the  wretch,  absorbed  in  his 
victuals,  and  naturally  of  an  unutterable  dulness,  did 
not  make  a  single  remark  during  the  dinner,  whereas 


BRIGHTON    IN    1847.  135 

I  literally  blazed  with  wit.  Sir,  I  even  made  one  of 
the  footmen  laugh — a  perilous  joke  for  the  poor  fel 
low,  who,  I  dare  say,  will  be  turned  off  in  conse 
quence.  I  talked  sentiment  to  FLORENCE  (women  in 
spectacles  are  almost  always  sentimental) ;  cookery  to 
SIR  HARCOURT  GULPH,  who  particularly  asked  my  ad 
dress,  and  I  have  no  doubt  intends  to  invite  me  to  his 
dinners  in  town ;  military  affairs  with  MAJOR  BANG 
LES  of  the  Onety-oneth  Hussars,  who  was  with  the 
regiment  at  Aliwal  and  Ferozeshah,  and  drives  about 
a  prodigious  cab  at  Brighton,  with  a  captured  Sikh 
behind,  disguised  as  a  tiger ;  to  MRS.  GOLDMORE  I 
abused  LADY  TODDLE-ROWDY'S  new  carriages  and 
absurd  appearance  (she  is  seventy-four,  if  she  is  a 
day,  and  she  wears  a  white  muslin  frock  and  frilled 
trowsers,  with  a  wig  curling  down  her  old  back,  and 
I  do  believe  puts  on  a  pinafore,  and  has  a  little 
knife  and  fork  and  silver  mug  at  home,  so  girlish  is 
she) :  I  say,  in  a  word — and  I  believe  without  fear 
of  contradiction — that  I  delighted  everybody. 

"  Delightful  man  !  "  said  MRS.  BANGLES  to  my  ex 
cellent  friend,  MRS.  GOLDMORE. 

"  Extraordinary  creature  ;  so  odd,  isn't  he  ?  "  re 
plied  that  admirable  woman. 

"  What  a  flow  of  spirits  he  has !"  cried  the 
charming  VIOLET. 

"  And  yet  sorrows  repose  under  that  smiling 
mask,  and  those  outbreaks  of  laughter  perhaps  con- 


136  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

ceal  the  groans  of  smouldering  passion  and  the  shrieks 
of  withering  despair,"  sighed  FLORENCE.  "  It  is 
always  so  ;  the  wretched  seem  to  be  most  joyous.  If 
I  didn't  think  that  man  miserable,  I  couldn't  be  hap 
py,"  she  added,  and  lapsed  into  silence.  Little  MRS. 
DIGGS  told  me  every  word  of  the  conversation,  when 
I  came  up  the  first  of  the  gentlemen  to  tea. 

"  Clever  fellow  tlpt,"  said  (as  I  am  given  to  un 
derstand)  SIR  HARCOURT  G-ULPH.  "  I  liked  that  no 
tion  of  his  about  Croquignoles  a  la  pouffarde :  I 
will  speak  to  MOUFFLON  to  try  it." 

"  I  really  shall  mention  in  the  Bank  parlour  to 
morrow,"  the  Director  remarked,  "  what  he  said  about 
the  present  crisis,  and  his  project  for  a  cast-iron 
currency :  that  man  is  by  no  means  the  trifler  he  pre 
tends  to  be." 

"  Where  did  he  serve  ?"  asked  BANGLES.  « If  he 
can  manosuvre  an  army  as  well  as  he  talks  about  it, 
demmy,  he  ought  to  be  Commander-in-Chief.  Did 
you  hear,  CAPTAIN  DE  BOSKY,  what  he  said  about 
pontooning  the  echelons,  and  operating  with  our  re 
serve  upon  the  right  bank  of  the  river  at  Ferozeshah  ?' 
Gad,  Sir,  if  that  mano3uvre  had  been  performed,  not 
a  man  of  the  Sikh  army  would  have  escaped :" — in 
which  case  of  course  MAJOR  BANGLES  would  have  lost 
the  black  tiger  behind  his  cab  ;  but  DE  BOSKY  did 
not  make  this  remark.  The  great  stupid  hulking 
wretch  remarked  nothing ;  he  gorged  himself  with 


BRIGHTON    IN    1847.  137 

meat  and  wine,  and  when  quite  replete  with  claret, 
strutted  up  to  the  drawing-room  to  show  his  chest 
and  his  white  waistcoat  there. 

I  was  pouring  into  VIOLET'S  ear  (to  the  discom 
fiture  of  FLORENCE,  who  was  knocking  about  the 
tea-things  madly)  some  of  those  delightful  nothings 
with  which  a  well-bred  man  in  society  entertains  a 
female.  I  spoke  to  her  about  the  last  balls  in  Lon 
don — about  FANNY  FINCH'S  elopement  with  TOM  PAR 
ROT,  who  had  nothing  but  his  place  in  the  Foreign 
Office — about  the  people  who  were  at  Brighton — 
about  MR.  MIDGE'S  delightful  sermon  at  church  last 
Sunday — about  the  last  fashions,  and  the  next — que 
sais-je? — when  that  brute  DE  BOSKY  swaggered  up. 

"  Ah,  hum,  haw,"  said  he,  "  were  you  out  raiding 
to-day,  Miss  GOLDMAW  ?  " 

Determined  to  crush  this  odious  and  impertinent 
blunderer,  who  had  no  more  wit  than  the  horses  he 
bestrides,  I  resolved  to  meet  him  on  his  own  ground, 
and  to  beat  him  even  on  the  subject  of  horses. 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  my  dear  PUGSBY,  I  did  not 
confine  myself  strictly  to  truth  ;  but  I  described  how 
I  had  passed  three  months  in  the  Desert  with  an 
Arab  tribe :  how  I  had  a  mare  during  that  period, 
descended  from  Boorawk,  the  mare  of  the  Prophet, 
which  I  afterwards  sold  for  50,000  piastres  to  MA 
HOMET  ALI  ;  and  how,  being  at  Trebizond,  smoking 
with  the  sanguinary  Pasha  of  that  place,  I  had  bitted. 


138  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

saddled,  and  broke  to  carry  a  lady,  a  grey  Turkoman 
horse  of  his,  which  had  killed  fourteen  of  his  grooms, 
and  bit  off  the  nose  of  his  Kislar  Aga. 

"  Do  join  us  in  our  ride  to-morrow,"  cried  VIO 
LET  ;  "  the  downs  are  delightful." 

"  Fairest  lady,  to  hear  is  to  obey,"  answered  I, 
with  a  triumphant  glance  at  DE  BOSKY.  I  had  done 
his  business,  at  any  rate. 

Well,  Sir,  I  came  at  two  o'clock,  mounted  on  one 
of  JIGGOT'S  hacks — an  animal  that  I  know,  and  that 
goes  as  easy  as  a  sedan-chair,  and  found  the  party  as 
sembling  before  the  Director's  house,  in  the  King's 
Parade.  There  was  young  GOLDMORE — the  lovely 
VIOLET,  in  a  habit  that  showed  her  form  to  admira 
tion,  and  a  perfectly  ravishing  Spanish  tuft  in  her  • 
riding-hat,  with  a  little  gold  whip  and  a  little  pair  of 
gauntlets — a  oroquer,  in  a  word.  MAJOR  BANGLES 
and  lady  were  also  of  the  party  ;  in  fact  we  were  '  a 
gallant  company  of  cavaliers,'  as  JAMES  says  in  his 
novels  ;  and  with  my  heels  well  down,  and  one  of  my 
elbows  stuck  out,  I  looked,  Sir,  like  the  MARQUIS  OF 
ANGLESEA.  I  had  the  honour  of  holding  VIOLET'S 
little  foot  in  my  hand,  as  she  jumped  into  her  saddle. 
She  sprang  into  it  like  a  fairy. 

Last  of  all  the  stupid  DE  BOSKY  came  up.  He 
came  up  moaning  and  groaning.  "  I  have  had  a 
kick  in  the  back  from  a  horse  in  the  livery-stables," 
says  he  ;  "I  can't  hold  this  horse ;  will  you  ride  him. 


BRIGHTON    IN   1847.  139 

CANTERBURY  ?  "  His  horse  was  a  black,  wicked-look 
ing  beast  as  ever  I  saw,  with  blood-shot  eyes  and  a 
demoniacal  expression. 

What  could  I  do,  after  the  stories  about  Boorawk 
and  the  PASHA  OF  TREBIZOND  ?  Sir,  I  was  obliged 
to  get  off  my  sedan-chair  and  mount  the  Captain's 
Purgatory,  as  I  call  him — a  disgusting  brute,  and 
worthy  of  his  master. 

Well,  Sir.  off  we  set — Purgatory  jumping  from 
this  side  of  the  road  to  t'other,  shying  at  Miss  POG- 
SON,  who  passed  in  her  carriage  (as  well  he  might  at 
so  hideous  a  phenomenon) — plunging  at  an  apple- 
woman  and  stall — going  so  wild  at  a  baker's  cart 
that  I  thought  he  would  have  jumped  into  the  hall- 
door  where  the  man  was  delivering  a  pie  for  dinner — 
and  flinging  his  head  backwards  so  as  to  endanger  my 
own  nose  every  moment.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to 
keep  him  in.  I  tugged  at  both  bridles  till  I  tore  his 
jaws  into  a  fury,  I  suppose. 

Just  as  we  were  passing  under  the  viaduct,  whirr 
came  the  streaming  train  with  a  bang,  and  a  shriek, 
and  a  whizz.  The  brute  would  hold  in  no  longer : 
he  ran  away  with  me. 

I  stuck  my  feet  tight  down  in  the  stirups,  and 
thought  of  my  mother  with  inexpressible  agony.  I 
clutched  hold  of  all  the  reins  and  a  great  deal  of  the 
mane  of  the  brute.  I  saw  trees,  milestones,  houses, 
villages,  pass  away  from  me — away,  away,  away — 


140  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

away — by  the  corn-fields — away  by  the  wolds — away 
by  the  eternal  hills — away  by  the  woods  and  preci 
pices — the  woods,  the  rocks,  the  villages  flashed  by 
me.  0,  PUGSBY  !  how  I  longed  for  the  Megatherium 
during  that  ride  ! 

It  lasted,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  about  nine  hours, 
during  which  I  went  over,  as  I  should  think,  about 
540  miles  of  ground.  I  didn't  come  off — my  hat  did,  a 
new  Lincoln  and  Bennett,  but  I  didn't — and  at  length 
the  infuriate  brute  paused  in  his  mad  career,  with  an 
instinctive  respect  for  the  law,  at  a  turnpike  gate.  I  lit 
tle  knew  the  blessing  of  a  turnpike  until  then. 

In  a  minute  BANGLES  came  up,  bursting  with 
laughter.  "  You  can't  manage  that  horse,  I  think, 
said  the  Major,  with  his  infernal  good  nature.  "  Shall 
I  ride  him?  Mine  is  a  quiet  beast." 

I  was  off  Purgatory's  back  in  a  minute,  and  as  I 
mounted  on  BANGLES'  hackney,  felt  as  if  I  was  getting 
into  bed,  so  easy,  so  soft,  so  downy  he  seemed  to  me. 

He  said,  though  I  never  can  believe  it,  that  we 
had  only  come  about  a  mile  and  a  half;  and  at  this 
moment  the  two  ladies  and  DE  BOSKY  rode  up. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  broke  the  PASHA  OF  TREBI- 
ZOND'S  horse?"  VIOLET  said.     I  gave  a  laugh  ;   but  it 
_j,was  one  of  despair.     I  should  have  liked  to  plunge  a 
dagger  in  DE  BOSKY'S  side. 

I  shall  come  to  town  directly,  I  think.  This 
Brighton  is  a  miserable  Cockney  place. 


TRAVELLING  NOTES 

BY    OUR    FAT   CONTRIBUTOR. 

[The  relations,  friends,  and  creditors  of  the  singular  and  erratic  being 
who,  under  the  title  of  the  Fat  Contributor  (he  is,  by  the  way,  the  thinnest 
mortal  that  ever  was  seen),  wrote  some  letters  in  August  last  in  this  period 
ical,  have  been  alarmed  by  the  sudden  cessation  of  his  correspondence ; 
and  the  public,  as  we  have  reason  to  know  from  the  innumerable  letters  we 
have  received,  has  participated  in  this  anxiety. 

Yesterday  by  the  Peninsular  and  Oriental  Company's  steam-ship  Tagus, 
we  received  a  packet  of  letters  in  the  strange  handwriting  of  our  eccentric 
friend;  they  are  without  date,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  author's  usu 
al  irregularity,  but  the  first  three  letters  appear  to  have  been  written  at 
sea,  between  Southampton  and  Gibraltar,  the  last  from  the  latter-named 
place.  The  letters  contain  some  novel  descriptions  of  the  countries  which 
our  friend  visited,  some  neat  and  apposite  moral  sentiments,  and  some  ani 
mated  descriptions  of  maritime  life  ;  we  therefore  hasten  to  lay  them  be 
fore  the  public. 

He  requests  us  to  pay  his  laundress  in  Lincoln's  Inn,  "  a  small  forgotten 
account."  As  we  have  not  the  honour  of  that  lady's  acquaintance,  and  as 
no  doubt  she  reads  this  Miscellany  (in  company  with  every  lady  of  the 
land),  we  beg  her  to  apply  at  our  Office,  where  her  claim,  upon  authentica 
tion,  shall  be  settled]. 

HAVING  been  at  Brussels  for  three  whole  clays  (dur 
ing  which  time  I  calculate,  I  ate  no  less  than  fifty-four 
dishes  at  that  admirable  table- d'hote  at  the  Hotel  de 
Suede) ;  time  began  to  hang  heavily  upon  me.  Al 
though  I  am  fat,  I  am  one  of  the  most  active  men  in 
the  Universe — in  fact,  I  roll  like  a  ball — and  possess 
a  love  of  locomotion  which  would  do  credit  to  the 


142  THE    FAT    CONTRIBtTTOR. 

leanest  of  travellers,  GEORGE  BORROW,  CAPTAIN  CLAP- 
PERTON,  or  MUN.GO  PARK.  I  therefore  pursued  a  ra 
pid  course  to  Paris,  and  thence  to  Havre. 

As  Havre  is  the  dullest  place  on  earth,  I  quitted 
it  the  next  day  by  the  Ariadne  steamer — the  weather 
was  balm,  real  balm.  A  myriad  of  twinkling  stars 
glittered  down  on  the  deck  which  bore  the  Fat  Con 
tributor  to  his  native  shores — the  crescent  moon 
shone  in  a  sky  of  the  most  elegant  azure,  and  myriads 
of  dimples  decked  the  smiling  countenance  of  the 
peaceful  main.  I  was  so  excited  I  would  not  turn 
into  bed,  but  paced  the  quarter-deck  all  night,  sing 
ing  my  favourite  sea  songs —  all  the  pieces  out  of  all 
the  operas  which  I  had  ever  heard,  and  many  more 
tunes  which  I  invented  on  the  spot,  but  have  forgot 
ten  long  since. 

I  never  passed  a  more  delicious  night.  I  lay 
down  happily  to  rest,  folded  in  my  cloak — the  eternal 
stars  above  me,  and  beneath  me  a  horse-hair  mattress, 
which  the  steward  brought  from  below.  When  I 
rose  like  a  giant  refreshed  at  morn,  Wight  was  pass 
ed  ;  the  two  churches  of  Southampton  lay  on  my 
right  hand  ;  we  were  close  to  the  pier. 

"  What  is  yonder  steamer?"  I  asked  of  the  stew 
ard,  pointing  to  a  handsome,  slim,  black  craft  that  lay 
in  the  harbour,  a  flag  of  blue,  red,  white,  and  yellow, 
on  one  mast ;  a  blue  peter  (signal  of  departure)  at 
another. 


TRAVELLING    NOTES.  143 

"  That,"  said  the  steward,  "  is  the  Peninsular  and 
Oriental  Steam  Navigation  Company's  ship,  Lady 
Mary  Wood.  She  leaves  port  to-day  for  Gibraltar, 
touching  on  her  way  at  Vigo,  Oporto,  Lisbon  and 
Cadiz." 

I  quitted  the  Ariadne — JASON  did  the  same  in 
Lempriere's  Dictionary,  and  she  consoled  herself  with 
drinking,  it  is  said — I  quitted  the  ship,  and  went  to 
the  inn,  with  the  most  tremendous  thoughts  heaving, 
panting,  boiling,  in  my  bosom  ! 

':  Lisbon  !  "  I  said,  as  I  cut  into  a  cold  round  of 
beef  for  breakfast,  (if  I  have  been  in  foreign  parts 
for  a  week,  I  always  take  cold  beef  and  ale  for  break 
fast.)  "  Lisbon  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  the  fleuve  der  Tage  ! 
the  orange  groves  of  Cintra  !  the  vast  towers  of  Ma- 
fra  Belem,  the  Gallegos,  and  the  Palace  of  Necessi- 
dades  !  Can  I  see  all  these  in  a  week  ?  Have  I 
courage  enough  to  go  and  see  them1?"  I  took  an 
other  cut  at  the  beef. 

"  What !  "  continued  I  (my  mouth  full  of  muffin), 
"  is  it  possible  that  I,  sitting  here  as  I  am,  may  with 
out  the  least  trouble,  and  at  a  trifling  expense,  trans 
port  myself  to  Cadiz,  shining  o'er  the  dark  blue  sea, 
to  the  land  of  the  Sombrero  and  the  Seguidilla — of 
the  puchera,  the  muchacha,  and  the  Abanico  ?  If  I 
employ  my  time  well,  I  may  see  a  bull-fight,  an  auto- 
da-fi,  or  at  least  a  revolution.  I  may  look  at  the  dark 
eyes  of  the  Andalusian  maid  flashing  under  the  dark 


144  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

meshes  of  her  veil ;  and  listen  to  ALMA  VIVA'S  guitar, 
as  it  tinkles  under  the  balcony  of  ROSINA? — What 
time  does  the  Mary  Wood  go,  waiter  ? "  I  cried. 

The  slave  replied  she  went  at  half-past  three. 

"  And  does  she  make  Gibraltar  1 "  I  continued. 
';  Say,  JOHN,  will  she  land  me  at  Gibel  el  Altar  ?  op 
posite  the  coasts  of  Afric,  whence  whilom  swarmed  the 
galleys  of  the  Moor,  and  landed  on  the  European 
shores  the  dusky  squadrons  of  the  Moslemah1?  Do 
you  mean  to  say,  THOMAS,  that  if  I  took  my  passage 
in  yon  boat,  a  few  days  would  transport  me  to  the 
scene  renowned  in  British  story — the  fortress  seized 
by  ROOK,  and  guarded  by  ELLIOT  ?  Shall  I  be  able 
to  see  the  smoking  ruins  of  Tangiers,  which  the  sav 
age  bully  of  Graul  burned  down  in  braggadocio 
pride?" 

"  W  ould  you  like  anything  for  dinner  before  you 
go  ?  "  WILLIAM  here  rather  sulkily  interrupted  me, 
"  I  can't  be  a  listening  to  you  all  day — there's  the 
bell  of  24  ringing  like  mad." 

My  repast  was  by  this  time  concluded — the  last 
slice  of  boiled  beef  made  up  my  mind  completely.  I 
went  forth  to  the  busy  town — I  sought  a  ready-made 
linen  warehouse — and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  I 
purchased  all  that  was  necessary  for  a  two  months' 
voyage. 

From  that  moment  I  let  my  mustachios  grow. 
At  a  quarter-past  three,  a  mariner  of  a  stout  but 


TRAVELLING    NOTES.  145 

weather-beaten  appearance,  with  a  quantity  of  new 
carpet-bags  and  portmanteaus,  containing  twenty-four 
new  shirts  (six  terrifically  striped),  two  dozen  ditto 
stockings — in  brief,  everything  necessary  for  travel, 
tripped  lightly  up  the  ladder  of  the  Lady  Mary 
Wood. 

I  made  a  bow  as  I  have  seen  T.  P.  COOKE  do  it 
on  the  stage.  "  Avast  there,  my  hearty,"  I  said,  "  can 
you  tell  me  which  is  the  skipper  of  this  here  craft, 
and  can  a  seaman  get  a  stowage  in  her  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  captain,"  said  the  gentleman,  rather 
surprised. 

u  Tip  us  your  daddle,  then,  my  old  sea-dog,  and 
give  us  change  for  this  here  Henry  Hase." 

'Twas  a  bank  note  for  100/.  and  the  number  was 
33769. 

II, 

THE    SHIP    AT    SEA. DOLORES  ! 

THE  first  thing  that  "a  narrow-minded  individual 
does  on  shipboard  is  to  make  his  own  berth  comfortable 
at  the  expense  of  his  neighbours.  The  next  is  to  criti 
cise  the  passengers  round  about  him. 

Do  you  remark,  when  Britons  meet,  with  what  a 

scowl   they   salute   each  other,  as   much  as  to  say, 

"  Bless  your  eyes,  what  the  angel  do  you  do  here  ?  " 

Young  travellers,  that  is  to  say.  adopt  this  fascinat- 

7 


146  THE   FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

ing  mode  of  introduction — I  am  old  in  voyaging — I 
go  up  with  a  bland  smile  to  one  and  every  passenger. 
I  originate  some  clever  observation  about  the  fineness 
of  the  weather — if  there  are  ladies,  I  manage  to 
make  some  side  appeal  to  them,  which  is  sure  of  a 
tender  appreciation  :  above  all,  if  there  are  old  ladies, 
fat  ladies,  very  dropsical,  very  sea-sick,  or  ugly  ladies, 
I  pay  them  some  delicate  attention — I  go  up  and  in 
sinuate  a  pillow  under  their  poor  feet.  In  the  inter 
vals  of  sickness  I  whisper,  "  a  leetle  hot  sherry  and 
•water  !  "  All  these  little  kindnesses  act  upon  their 
delicate  hearts,  and  I  know  that  they  say  to  them 
selves.  "  How  exceedingly  polite  and  well-bred  that 
stout  young  man  is." 

"  It's  a  pity  he's  so  fat,"  says  one. 

"  Yes,  but  then  he's  so  a'ctive,"  ejaculates  another. 

And  thus  you,  my  dear  and  ingenuous  youth  who 
read  this,  and  whom  I  recommend  to  lay  to  heart 
every  single  word  of  it — I  am  adored  by  all  my  fel 
low  passengers.  When  they  go  ashore  they  feel  .a 
pang  at  parting  with  their  amiable  companion.  I  am 
only  surprised  that  I  have  not  been  voted  several 
pieces  of  plate  upon  these  occasions — perhaps,  dear 
youth,  if  you  follow  my  example  you  may  be  more 
lucky. 

Acting  upon  this  benevolent  plan,  I  shall  not 
begin  satirically  to  describe  the  social  passengers  that 
tread  with  me  the  deck  of  the  Lady  Mary  Wood. 


TRAVELLING   NOTES.  147 

I  shall  not,  like  that  haughty  and  supercilious  wretch 
with  the  yellow  whiskers,  yonder,  cut  short  the  gentle 
efforts  at  good  fellowship  which  human  beings  around 
me  may  make — or  grumble  at  the  dinner,  or  the 
head-wind,  or  the  narrowness  of  the  berths,  or  the 
jarring  of  the  engines — but  shall  make  light  of  all 
these — nay,  by  ingenuity,  turn  them  to  a  facetious 
and  moral  purpose.  Here,  for  instance,  is  a  pic 
ture  of  the  ship,  taken  under  circumstances  of 
great  difficulty — over  the  engine-room — the  funnel 
snorting,  the  ship's  sides  throbbing,  as  if  in  a  fit  of 


There  !  I  flatter  myself  that  is  a  master-piece  of 
perspective.  If  the  Royal  Academy  would  exhibit, 
or  MR.  MOON  would  publish  a  large  five  guinea  plate 
of  the  "main-deck  of  a  steamer,"  how  the  public 
would  admire  and  purchase  !  With  a  little  imagina 
tion,  you  may  fancy  yourself  on  shipboard.  Before 
you  is  the  iron  grating,  up  to  which  you  see  peeping 
every  minute  the  pumping  head  of  the  engine ;  on 
the  right  is  the  galley,  where  the  cook  prepares  the 
victuals  that  we  eat  or  not,  as  weather  permits,  near 
which  stands  a  living  likeness  of  MR.  JONES,  the 
third  engineer;  to  the  left  and  running  along  the 
side  of  the  paddle-boxes  are  all  sorts  of  mysterious 
little  houses  painted  green,  from  which  mates,  mops, 
cabin-boys,  black  engineers,  and  oily  cook's-assistants 
emerge  :  above  is  the  deck  between  the  two  paddle- 


148  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

boxes  on  which  the  captain  walks  in  his  white  trou 
sers  and  telescope  (you  may  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
former),  and  from  which  in  bad  weather  he,  speaking- 
trumpet  in  hand,  rides  .the  whirlwind  and  directs  the 
storm.  Those  are  the  buckets  in  case  of  fire ;  see 
how  they  are  dancing  about !  because  they  have 
nothing  else  to  do — I  trust  they  will  always  remain 
idle.  A  ship  on  fire  is  a  conveyance  by  which  I 
have  no  mind  to  travel. 

Farther  away,  by  the  quarter-deck  ladder,  you 
see  accurate  portraits  of  MESSRS.  MAC  WHIRTER 
and  MAC  MURDO,  of  Oporto  and  St.  Mary's,  wine- 
merchants  ;  and  far,  far  away,  on  the  quarter-deck, 
close  by  the  dark  helmsman,  with  the  binnacle  shin 
ing  before  his  steadfast  eyes,  and  the  English  flag 
streaming  behind  him  (it  is  a  confounded  head-wind) 
— you  see — 0  my  wildly  beating,  my  too  susceptible 
heart !— you  see  DOLORES  ! 

I  write  her  name  with  a  sort  of  despair.  I  think 
it  is  four  hours  ago  since  I  wrote  that  word  on  the 
paper.  They  were  at  dinner,  but  (for  a  particular 
reason)  I  cared  not  to  eat,  and  sat  at  my  desk  apart. 
The  dinner  went  away,  either  down  the  throats  of  the 
eager  passengers,  or  to  the  black  caboose  whence  it 
came — dessert  passed — the  sun  set — tea  came — the 
moon  rose — she  is  now  high  in  heaven,  and  the 
steward  is  laying  the  supper  things,  and  all  this  while 
I  have  been  thinking  of  DOLORES,  DOLORES,  DOLORES  ! 


TRAVELLING    NOTES.  149 

She  is  a  little  far  off  in  the  picture ;  but  by  the 
aid  of  a  microscope,  my  dear  sir,  you  may  see  every 
lineament  of  her  delicious  countenance — every  fold 
of  the  drapery  which  adorns  her  fair  form,  and  falls 
down  to  the  loveliest  foot  in  the  world !  Did  you 
ever  see  anything  like  that  ankle  ? — those  thin,  open- 
worked  stockings  make  my  heart  thump  in  an  in 
describable  rapture.  I  would  drink  her  health  out 
of  that  shoe ;  but  I  swear  it  would  not  hold  more 
than  a  liqueur  glass  of  wine.  Before  she  left  us — ah 
me  !  that  I  should  have  to  write  the  words  left  us — 
I  tried  to  make  her  likeness ;  but  the  abominable 
brute  of  a  steam-engine  shook  so,  that — would  you 
believe  it  ? — this  is  all  I  could  make  of  the  loveliest 
face  in  the  world  ! 

I  look  even  at  that  with  a  melancholy  pleasure. 
It  is  not  very  like  her,  certainly ;  but  it  was  drawn 
from  her— it  is  not  the  rose,  but  it  has  been  near  it. 
Her  complexion  is  a  sort  of  goldjaolQur- — her  eyes  of 
a  melting,  'deepj  unfatliomably  deep  brown — and  as 
for  her  hair,  the  varnish  of  my  best  boots  for  evening 
parties  is  nothing  compared  to  it  for  blackness  and 
polish. 

She  used  to  sit  on  the  quarter-deck  of  sunny 
afternoons,  and  smoke  paper  cigars — oh  if  you  could 
have  seen  how  sweetly  she  smiled  and  how  prettily 
she  puffed  out  the  smoke  !  I  have  got  a  bit  of  one  of 
them  which  has  been  at  her  sweet  lips.  I  shall  get 


150  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

a  gold  box  to  keep  it  in  some  day  when  I  ara  in  cash. 
There  she  sat  smoking,  and  the  young  rogues  of  the 
ship  used  to  come  crowding  round  her.  MAC 
WHIRTER  was  sorry  she  didn't  stop  at  Oporto,  MAC 
MURDO  was  glad  because  she  was  going  to  Cadiz — I 
warrant  he  was — my  heart  was  burst  asunder  with  a 
twang  and  a  snap,  and  she  carried  away  half  of  it  in 
the  Malta  boat,  which  bore  her  away  from  me  for 
ever.  DOLORES  was  not  like  your  common  mincing 
English  girls — she  had  always  a  repartee  and  a  joke 
upon  her  red  lips  which  made  every  one  around  her 
laugh — some  of  these  jokes  I  would  repeat  were  it 
not  a  breach  of  confidence ;  and  had  they  not  been 
uttered  in  the  Spanish  language,  of  which  I  don't 
understand  a  word.  So  I  used  to  sit  quite  silent  and 
look  at  her  full  in  the  face  for  hours  and  hours,  and 
offer  her  my  homage  that  way. 

You  should  have  seen  how  DOLORES  ate  too  ! 
Our  table  was  served  four  times  a-day — at  breakfast, 
with  such  delicacies  as  beefsteaks,  bubble  and  squeak, 
fried  ham  and  eggs,  hashed  goose,  twice-laid,  &c.5 — 
of  all  which  trifles  little  DOLORES  would  have  her  share 
— the  same  at  dinner  when  she  was  well :  and — when 
beneath  the  influence  of  angry  Neptune  the  poor  soul 
was  stretched  in  the  berth  of  sickness,  the  stewards 
would  nevertheless  bear  away  plates  upon  plates  of 
victuals  to  the  dear  suffering  girl ;  and  it  would  be 
u  Irish  stew  for  a  lady,  if  you  please,  sir  ?  " — "  rabbit 


TRAVELLING    NOTES.  151 

and  onions  for  the  ladies'  cabin  " — "  Duck,  if  you 
please,  arid  plenty  of  stuffing,  for  the  Spanish  lady." 
And  such  is  our  blind  partiality  when  the  heart  is 
concerned,  that  I  admired  that  conduct  in  my 
DOLORES  which  I  should  have  detested  in  other  peo 
ple.  For  instance,  if  I  had  seen  Miss  JONES  or 
Miss  SMITH  making  peculiar  play  with  her  knife,  or 
pulling  out  a  tooth-pick  after  dinner,  what  would 
have  been  my  feelings  ? 

But  I  only  saw  perfection  in  DOLORES. 


III. 


FROM    MY    LOG-BOOK   AT   SEA, 

WE  are  at  sea — yonder  is  Finisterre. 

The  only  tempest  I  have  to  describe  during  the 
voyage  is  that  raging  in  my  own  stormy  interior.  It 
is  most  provokingly  uncomfortably  fine  weather.  As 
we  pass  Ushant  there  is  not  a  cloud  on  the  sky,  there 
scarcely  seems  a  ripple  on  the  water — and  yet — oh 
yet !  it  is  not  a  calm  within.  Passion  and  sea-sick 
ness  are  raging  there  tumultuously. 

"Why  is  it  I  cannot  eat  my  victuals  ?  Why  is  it 
that  when  Steward  brought  to  my  couch  a  plateful  of 
Sea-Pie  (I  called  wildly  for  it,  having  read  of  the 
dish  in  maritime  novels),  why  is  it  that  the  onions  of 
which  that  delectable  condiment  seems  to  be  mainly 


152  THE   FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

composed,  caused  a  convulsive  shudder  to  pass  from 
my  nose  through  my  whole  agonised  frame,  obliging 
me  to  sink  "back  gasping  in  the  crib,  and  to  forego  all 
food  for  many,  many  hours  ? 

I  think  it  must  be  my  love  for  DOLORES  that 
causes  this  deperate  disinclination  for  food,  and  yet  I 
have  been  in  love  many  times  before,  and  I  don't 
recollect  ever  having  lost  my  desire  for  my  regular 
four  meals  a  day.  I  believe  I  must  be  very  far  gone 
this  time. 

I  ask  FRANK,  the  Steward,  how  is  the  Senora  ? 
She  suffers,  the  dear,  dear  soul !  She  is  in  the  ladies' 
cabin — she  has  just  had  a  plate  of  roast-pork  carried 
in  to  her. 

She  always  chooses  the  dishes  with  onions — she 
comes  from  the  sunny  South,  where  both  onions  and 
garlic  are  plentifully  used — and  yet  somehow,  in  the 
depression  of  my  spirits — I  wish,  I  wish  she  hadn't  a 
partiality  for  that  particular  vegetable. 

It  is  the  next  day.  I  have  lost  almost  all  count 
of  time ;  and  only  know  how  to  trace  it  faintly,  by 
remembering  the  Champagne  days — Thursday  and 
Sunday. 

I  am  abominably  hungry.  And  yet  when  I  tried 
at  breakfast !-- ^0  horror  ! — I  was  obliged  to  plunge 
back  to  the  little  cabin  again,  and  have  not  been 


TRAVELLING   NOTES.  153 

heard  of  since.  Since  then  I  have  been  lying  on  my 
back,  sadly  munching  biscuit  and  looking  at  the  glim 
mer  of  the  sun  through  the  deadlight  overhead. 

I  was  on  the  sofa,  enjoying  (if  a  wretch  so  mise 
rable  can  be  said  to  enjoy  anything)  the  fresh  breeze 
which  came  through  the  open  port-hole,  and  played 
upon  my  dewy  brow.  But  a  confounded  great  wave 
came  flouncing  in  at  the  orifice,  blinded  me,  wet  me 
through,  wet  all  my  linen  in  the  carpet-bag,  rusted 
all  my  razors,  made  water-buckets  of  my  boots,  and 
played  the  deuce  with  a  tin  of  sweet  biscuits  which 
have  formed  my  only  solace. 

"Ha!  Ha!  What  do  I  want  with  boots  and 
razors  ?  I  could  not  put  on  a  boot  now  if  you  were 
to  give  me  a  thousand  guineas.  I  could  not  shave 
if  my  life  depended  on  it.  I  think  I  could  cut  my 
head  off — but  the  razors  are  rusty  and  would  not  cut 
clean.  0  DOLORES,  DOLORES  ! 

The  hunger  grows  worse  and  worse.  It  seems  to 
me  an  age  since  butcher's  meat  passed  these  lips: 
and.  to  add  to  my  misery,  I  can  hear  every  word  the 
callous  wretches  are  saying  in  the  cabin ;  the  clatter 
of  the  plates,  the  popping  of  the  soda-water  corks — 
or,  can  it  be  Champagne  day,  and  I  a  miserable  gro 
veller  on  my  mattress  ?  The  following  is  the  con 
versation  : — 

Captain.  MR.  JONES,  may  I  have  honour  of  a 

7* 


154  THE   FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

glass  of  wine?  FRANK,  some  Champagne  to  MR. 
JONES. 

Colonel  Condy  (of  the  Spanish  service).  That's  a 
mighty  delicate  ham,  Mr.  Carver,  may  I  thrubble  ye 
for  another  slice  ? 

Mr.  Mac  Murdo  (of  St.  Mary's,  sherry-merchant). 
Where  does  the  Providore  get  this  sherry  ?  If  he 
would  send  to  my  cellars  in  St.  Mary's,  I  would  put 
him  in  a  couple  of  butts  of  wine  that  shouldn't  cost 
him  half  the  money  he  pays  for  this. 

Mr.  MacWhirter  (of  Oporto).  The  sherry's  good 
enough  for  sherry,  which  is  never  worth  the  drinking ; 
but  the  port  is  abominable.  Why  doesn't  he  come 
to  our  house  for  it  ? 

Captain.  There  is  nothing  like  leather,  gentle 
men. — More  Champagne.  FRANK — MR.  BUNG,  try  the 
maccaroni.  MR.  PERKINS,  this  plum-pudding  is  cap 
ital. 

Steward.  Some  pudding  for  MRS.  BIGBODY  in  the 
cabin,  and  another  slice  of  duck  for  the  Senora. 

And  so  goes  on  the  horrid  talk.  They  are  eating 
— she  is  eating ;  they  laugh,  they  jest.  MR.  SMITH 
jocularly  enquires,  How  is  the  fat  gentleman  that 
was  so  gay  on  board  the  first  day  ?  Meaning  me,  of 
course  ;  and  I  am  lying  supine  in  my  berth,  without 
even  strength  enough  to  pull  the  rascal's  nose.  I 
detest  SMITH. 


TRAVELLING   NOTES.  155 

Friday. —  Vigo ;  its  bay ;  beauty  of  its  environs. 
— Nelson. 

Things  look  more  briskly  ;  the  swell  has  gone 
down.  We  are  upon  deck  again.  We  have  break 
fasted.  We  have  made  up  for  the  time  lost  in  absti 
nence  during  the  two  former  days.  DOLORES  is  on 
deck  ;  and  when  the  spring  sun  is  out,  where  should 
the  butterfly  be  but  on  the  wing  ?  DOLORES  is  the 
sun,  I  am  the  remainder  of  the  simile. 

It  is  astonishing  how  a  few  hours'  calm  can  make 
one  forget  the  long  hours  of  weary  bad  weather.  I 
can't  fancy  I  have  been  ill  at  all,  but  for  those  melan 
choly  observations  scrawled  feebly  down  in  pencil  in 
my  journal  yesterday.  I  am  in  clean  shining  white- 
ducks,  my  blue  shirt-collars  falling  elegantly  over  a 
yellow  bandanna.  My  moustachios  have  come  on 
wonderfully ;  they  are  a  little  red  or  so.  But  the 
Spanish,  they  say,  like  fair  faces.  I  would  do  any 
thing  for  DOLORES  but  smoke  with  her ;  that  I  con 
fess  I  dare  not  attempt. 

It  appears  it  was  THE  BAY  OF  BISCAY  that  made 
me  so  ill.  We  were  in  Vigo  yesterday  (a  plague  take 
it !  I  have  missed  what  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  bays  in  the  world) ;  but  I  was  ill,  and  get 
ting  a  little  sleep  ;  and  when  it  is  known  as  a  fact 
that  a  NELSON  was  always  ill  on  first  going  to  sea, 
need  a  Fat  Contributor  be  ashamed  of  a  manly  and 
natural  weakness? 


156  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

Saturday. — Description  of  Oporto. 

We  were  off  the  bar  at  an  exceedingly  early  hour 
— so  early,  that  although  a  gun  fired  and  waked  me 
out  of  a  sound  sleep,  I  did  not  rise  to  examine  the 
town. 

It  is  three  miles  inland,  and  therefore  cannot  be 
seen.  It  is  famous  for  the  generous  wine  which  bears 
the  name  of  port,  and  is  drunk  by  some  after  dinner ; 
by  other,  and  I  think  wiser  persons,  simply  after 
cheese. 

As  about  ten  times  as  much  of  this  liquor  is 
drunk  in  England  as  is  made  in  Portugal,  it  is  need 
less  to  institute  any  statistical  inquiries  into  the 
growth  and  consumption  of  the  wine. 

Oporto  was  besieged  by  DON  MIGUEL,  the  rightful 
king,  who,  although  he  had  MARSHAL  BOURMONT  and 
justice  on  his  side,  was  defeated  by  DON  PEDRO  and 
British  Valour.  Thus  may  our  arms  ever  triumph  ! 
These  are  the  only  facts  I  was  enabled  to  gather 
regarding  Oporto. 

New  Passengers. — On  coming  on  deck,  I  was 
made  aware  that  we  had  touched  land  by  the  presence 
on  the  boat  of  at  least  a  hundred  passengers,  who  had 
not  before  appeared  among  us.  They  had  come  from 
yigo,  and  it  appears  were  no  more  disposed  to  rouse 
at  the  morning  gun  than  I  was. 

They  were  Gallegos  going  to  Lisbon  for  service  ; 


TRAVELLING   NOTES.  157 

and  I  wished  that  a  better  hand  than  mine — viz.,  one 
of  those  immortal  pencils  which  decorate  the  columns 
of  our  dear  Punch — had  been  there  to  take  cogni 
zance  of  these  strange  children  of  the  South — in  their 
scarfs  and  their  tufted  hats,  with  their  brown  faces 
shining  as  they  lay  under  the  sun. 

Nor  were  these  "the  only  new  passengers ;  with 
them  came  on  board  a  half-dozen  of  Hungarian  cloth- 
sellers,  one  of  whom  as  he  lay  upon  two  barrels,  slept 
the  sleep  of  innocence  sub  Jove. 

Again  the  same  individual,  but  ah  how  changed  ! 
He  is  suffering  from  the  pangs  of  sea-sickness,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  yearning  for  fatherland,  or  land  of 
some  sort.  But  I  am  interrupted.  Hark !  'tis  the 
bell  for  lunch  !  * 

*  Though  our  fat  friend's  log  has  heen  in  the  present  in 
stance  a  little  tedious,  the  observant  reader  may  nevertheless 
draw  from  it  a  complete  and  agreeable  notion  of  the  rise,  pro 
gress,  and  conclusion  of  the  malady  of  sea-sickness.  He  is 
exhausted  ;  he  is  melancholy ;  Jhe  is  desperate  ;  he  rejects  his 
victuals ;  he  grows  hungry,  but  dares  not  eat ;  he  mends ;  his 
spirits  rise ;  all  his  faculties  are  restored  to  him ;  and  he  eats 
with  redoubled  vigour.  This  fine  diagnosis  of  the  maritime 
complaint,  we  pronounce  from  experience  may  be  perfectly 
relied  upon. 


PUNCH   IN   THE   EAST. 

FROM   OUR   FAT   CONTRIBUTOR. 
I. 

On  board  the  P.  &  0.  Company's  Ship, 

"  Burrumpooter"  off  Alexandria. 

FAT  CONTRIBUTOR,  indeed  !  I  lay  down  my  pen, 
and  smiling  in  bitter  scorn  as  I  write  the  sarcastic 
title — I  remember  it  was  that  which  I  assumed  when 
my  peregrinations  began.  It  is  now  an  absurd  mis 
nomer. 

I  forget  whence  I  wrote  to  you  last.  We  were 
but  three  weeks  from  England,  I  think — off  Cadiz, 
or  Malta,  perhaps — I  was  full  of  my  recollections  of 
Dolores — full  in  other  ways,  too.  I  have  travelled 
in  the  East  since  then.  I  have  seen  the  gardens  of 
Bujukdere  and  the  kiosks  of  the  Seraglio :  I  have 
seen  the  sun  sinking  behind  Morea's  hills,  and  rising 
over  the  red  waves  of  the  Nile.  I  have  travelled 
like  BENJAMIN  D'ISRAELI,  ULYSSES,  MONCKTON  MILNES, 
and  the  eminent  sages  of  all  times.  I  am  not  the  fat 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  159 

being  I  was,  (and  proudly  styled  myself,)  when  I 
left  my  dear,  dear  Pall  Mall.  You  recollect  my 
Nugee  dress-coat,  with  the  brass  buttons  and  Ca 
nary  silk  lining,  that  the  Author  of  the  "  Spirit  of 
the  Age  "  used  to  envy  ?  I  never  confessed  it — but 
I  was  in  agonies  when  I  wore  that  coat.  I  was 
girthed  in  (inwardly)  so  tight,  that  I  thought  every 
day  after  the  third  entree  apoplexy  would  ensue — 
and  had  my  name  and  address  written  most  legibly 
in  the  breast  flap,  so  that  I  might  be  carried  home  in 
case  I  was  found  speechless  in  the  street  on  my 
return  from  dinner.  A  smiling  face  often  hides  an 
aching  heart ;  I  promise  you  mine  did  in  that  coat, 
and  not  my  heart  only,  but  other  regions.  There  is 
a  skeleton  in  every  house — and  mine — no — I  wasn't 
exactly  a  skeleton  in  that  garment,  but  suffered  secret 
torments  in  it,  to  which,  as  I  take  it,  those  of  the  In 
quisition  were  trifles. 

I  put  it  on  t'other  day  to  dine  with  BUCKSHEESH 
PASHA  at  Grand  Cairo — I  could  have  buttoned  the 
breast  over  to  the  two  buttons  behind.  My  dear  Sir 
— I  looked  like  a  perfect  GUY.  I  am  wasted  away — 
a  fading  flower — I  don't  weigh  above  sixteen  and  a 
half  now.  Eastern  Travel  has  done  it — and  all  my 
fat  friends  may  read  this  and  consider  it,  It  is 
something  at  least  to  know.  BYRON  (one  of  us)  took 
vinegar  and  starved  himself  to  get  down  the  disa 
greeable  plenitude.  Vinegar  ? — nonsense ! — try  East- 


160  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

era  travel.  I  am  bound  to  say,  however,  that  it  don't 
answer  in  all  cases.  WADDILOVE,  for  instance,  with 
whom  I  have  been  making  the  journey,  has  bulged 
out  in  the  sun  like  a  pumpkin,  and  at  dinner  you  see 
his  coat  and  waistcoat  buttons  spirt  violently  off  his 
garments — no  longer  able  to  bear  the  confinement 
there.  One  of  them  hit  COLONEL  SOURCILLON  plump 
on  the  nose,  on  which  the  Frenchman  *  *  But  to 
return  to  my  own  case.  A  man  always  speaks  most 
naturally  and  truly  of  that  which  occurs  to  himself. 

I  attribute  the  diminution  in  my  size  not  to  my 
want  of  appetite,  which  has  been  uniformly  good. 
Pale  ale  is  to  be  found  universally  throughout  Tur 
key,  Syria,  Greece,  and  Egypt,  and  after  a  couple  of 
foaming  bottles  of  Bass,  a  man  could  eat  a  crocodile 
(we  had  some  at  BUCKSHEESH  PASHA'S,  fattened  in 
the  tanks  of  his  country  villa  of  El  Muddee,  on  the 
Nile,  but  tough — very  fishy  and  tough) — the  appetite, 
I  say,  I  have  found  to  be  generally  good  in  these 
regions — and  attribute  the  ^corporeal  diminution 

Solely  TO  WANT  OF  SLEEP. 

I  give  you  my  word  of  honour,  as  a  gentleman, 
that  for  seven  weeks  I  have  never  slept  a  single  wink. 
It  is  my  belief  that  nobody  does  in  the  East.  You 
get  to  do  without  it  perfectly.  It  may  be  said  of 
these  countries,  they  are  so  hospitable,  you  are  never 
alone.  You  have  always  friends  to  come  and  pass 
the  night  with  you,  and  keep  you  alive  with  their 


PUNCH   IN    THE    EAST.  161 

amtujk.  At  Constantinople,  at 
Athens,  Malta,  Cairo,  Gibraltar,  it  is  all  the  same. 
Your  watchful  friends  persist  in  paying  you  atten 
tion.  The  frisky  and  agile  flea,  the  s_lpw  but  steady- 
purposed  bug — the  fairy  mosquito,  with  his  mellow- 
sounding-horn,  rush  to  welcome  the  stranger  to  their 
shores — and  never  leave  him  during  his  stay.  At 
first,  and  before  you  are  used  to  the  manners  of  the 
country,  the  attention  is  rather  annoying. 

Man  is  a  creature  of  habit.  I  did  not  at  first 
like  giving  up  my  sleep.  I  had  been  used  to  it  in 
England.  I  occasionally  repined  as  my  friends  per 
sisted  in  calling  my  attention  to  them,  grew  sulky 
and  peevish,  wished  myself  in  bed  in  London — nay, 
in  the  worst  bed  in  the  most  frequented  old.  mouldy, 
musty, wooden-galleried  coach  inn  in  Aldgate  or  Hoi- 
born.  I  recollect  a  night  at  the  Bull,  in  poor  dear 
old  MRS.  NELSON'S  time — well,  well,  it  is  nothing  to 
the  East.  What  a  country  would  this  be  for  TIFFIN, 
and  what  a  noble  field  for  his  labours ! 

Though  I  am  used  to  it  now,  I  can't  say  but  it  is 
probable  that  when  I  get  back  to  England  I  shall 
return  to  my  old  habits.  Here,  on  board  the  Penin 
sular  and  Oriental  Company's  magnificent  steamship, 
Burrumpooter*  I  thought  of  trying  whether  I  could 
sleep  any  more.  I  had  got  the  sweetest  little  cabin 
in  the  world  ;  the  berths  rather  small  and  tight  for 
a  man  of  still  considerable  proportions — but  every- 


162  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

thing  as  neat,  sweet,  fresh  and  elegant  as  the  most 
fastidious  amateur  of  the  night-cap  might  desire.  I 
hugged  the  idea  of  having  the  little  palace  all  to  my 
self.  I  placed  a  neat  white  night-gown  and  my 
favourite  pink  silk  cap,  on  the  top  berth  ready.  The 
sea  was  as  clear  as  glass — the  breeze  came  cool  and 
refreshing  through  the  port-hole — the  towers  of 
Alexandria  faded  away  as  our  ship  sailed  westward. 
My  Egyptian  friends  were  left  behind.  It  would 
soon  be  sunset.  I  longed  for  that  calm  hour,  and 
meanwhile  went  to  enjoy  myself  at  dinner  with  a 
hundred  and  forty  passengers  from  Suez,  who  laughed 
and  joked,  drank  Champagne  and  the  exhilarating 
Hodgson,  and  brought  the  latest  news  from  Dumdum 
Futtyghur. 

I  happened  to  sit  next  at  table  to  the  French 
gentleman  before  mentioned,  COLONEL  SOTJRCILLON, 
in  the  service  of  the  RAJAH  OF  LAHORE,  returning  to 
Europe  on  leave  of  absence.  The  Colonel  is  six  feet 
high — of  a  grim  and  yellow  physiognomy,  with  a  red 
ribbon  at  his  button-hole,  of  course,  and  large  black 
mustachios,  curling  up  to  his  eyes — to  one  eye,  that 
is — the  other  was  put  out  in  mortal  combat,  which 
has  likewise  left  a  furious  purple  gash  down  one 
cheek,  a  respectable  but  terrible  sight. 

"  Vous  regardez  ma  cicatrice,"  said  the  Colonel, 
perceiving  that  I  eyed  him  with  interest.  "  Je  1'  ai 
rec,ue  en  Espagne,  Monsieur,  a  la  bataille  de  Vitto- 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  163 

ria,  que  nous  avons  gagnee  sur  vous.  J'ai  tue  de 
ma  main  le  grrredin  de  Feldmarechal  Anglais  qui 
m'a  donne  cette  noble  blessure.  Elle  n'est  pas  la 
seule,  Monsieur.  Je  possede  encore  soixante-qua- 
torze  cicatricees  sur  le  corps.  Mais  j'ai  fait  sonner 
partout  le  grrrand  nom  de  la  Frrance.  Yous  etes 
militaire,  Monsieur  ?  Non  ?  Passez  moi  le  poivre- 
rouge,  s'il  vous  plait." 

The  Colonel  emptied  the  cayenne  pepper  cruet 
over  his  fish,  and  directed  his  conversation  entirely 
to  me.  He  told  me  that  ours  was  a  perfidious 
nation,  that  he  esteemed  some  individuals,  but  de 
tested  the  country,  which  he  hoped  to  see  ecrrrase 
un  jour.  He  said  I  spoke  French  with  remarkable 
purity  ;  that  on  board  all  our  steamers  there  was  an 
infamous  conspiracy  to  insult  every  person  bearing  the 
name  of  Frenchman  ;  that  he  would  call  out  the 
Captain  directly  they  came  ashore  ;  that  he  could 
not  even  get  a  cabin  ;  had  I  one  ?  On  my  affirma 
tive  reply,  he  said  I  was  a  person  of  such  amiable 
manners,  and  so  unlike  my  countrymen,  that  he 
would  share  my  cabin  with  me — and  instantly  shout 
ed  to  the  steward  to  put  his  trunks  into  number  202. 

What  could  I  do  ?  When  I  went  on  deck  to 
smoke  a  cigar,  the  Colonel  retired,  pretending  a  pe 
tite  sante,  suffering  a  horrible  mal  de  mer,  and  dread 
ful  shooting  pains  in  thirty-seven  of  his  wounds. 
What,  I  say,  could  I  do  ?  I  had  not  the  cabin  to 


164  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

myself.  He  had  a  right  to  sleep  there — at  any  rate, 
I  had  the  best  berth,  and  if  he  did  not  snore,  my 
rest  would  not  be  disturbed. 

But  ah  !  my  dear  friends — when  I  thought  I 
would  go  down  and  sleep — the  first  sleep  after  seven 
weeks — fancy  what  I  saw — he  was  asleep  in  my 
berth. 

His  sword,  gun,  and  pistol-cases,  blocked  up  the 
other  sleeping-place  ;  his  bags,  trunks,  pipes,  cloaks, 
and  portmanteaus,  every  corner  of  the  little  room. 

"  Qui  VA  LA  ?  "  roared  the  monster,  with  a  terri 
fic  oath,  as  I  entered  the  cabin.  "  Ah  !  c'est  vous, 
Monsieur,  pourquoi  diable  faites-vous  tant  de  bruit  ? 
J'ai  une  petite  sante ;  laissez  moi  dormir  en  paix." 

I  went  upon  deck.  I  shan't  sleep  till  I  get  back 
to  England  again.  I  paid  my  passage  all  the  way 
home :  but  I  stopped,  and  am  in  quarantine  at  Malta. 
I  couldn't  make  the  voyage  with  that  Frenchman.  I 
have  no  money ;  send  me  some,  and  relieve  the  mis 
eries  of  him  who  was  once 

THE  FAT  CONTRIBUTOR. 

II. 

ON  THE    PROSPECTS   OF    PUNCH   IN   THE    EAST. 
To  tlw  Editor  of  Punch  (Confidential). 

MY  DEAR  SIR — In  my  last  letter  (which  was  intend 
ed  for  the  public  eye),  I  was  too  much  affected  by 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  165 

the  recollection  of  what  I  may  be  permitted  to  call 
the  ARABIAN  NIGHTS'  ENTERTAINMENTS,  to  allow  me  for 
the  moment  to  commit  to  paper  that  useful  informa 
tion,  in  the  imparting  of  which  your  Journal — our 
Journal — the  world's  Journal — yields  to  none,  and 
which  the  British  public  will  naturally  expect  from 
all  who  contribute  to  your  columns.  I  address  my 
self  therefore  privately  to  you,  so  that  you  may  deal 
with  the  facts  I  may  communicate  as  you  shall  think 
best  for  the  general  welfare. 

What  I  wish  to  point  out  especially  to  your  no 
tice  is,  the  astonishing  progress  of  Punch  in  the  East. 
Moving  according  to  your  orders  in  strict  incognito, 
it  has  been  a  source  of  wonder  and  delight  to  me  to 
hear  how  often  the  name  of  the  noble  Miscellany  was 
in  the  mouths  of  British  men.  At  Gibraltar  its  jokes 
passed  among  the  midshipmen,  merchants,  Jews,  &c., 
assembled  at  the  hotel  table  (and  quite  unconscious 
how  sweetly  their  words  sounded  on  the  ear  of  a 
silent  guest  at  the  board)  as  current,  ay,  much  more 
current,  than  the  coin  of  the  realm.  At  Malta,  the 
first  greeting  between  CAPTAIN  TAGUS  and  some  other 
Captain  in  anchor-buttons,  who  came  to  hail  him 
when  we  entered  harbour,  related  to  Punch.  "What's 
the  news  ? "  exclaimed  the  other  Captain.  "  Here's 
Punch"  was  the  immediate  reply  of  TAGUS,  handing 
it  out — and  the  other  Captain's  face  was  suffused 
with  instant  smiles  as  his  enraptured  eye  glanced 


166  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

over  some  of  the  beauteous  designs  of  LEECH.  At 
Athens,  MR.  SMITH,  second-cousin  of  the  respected 
Vice-Consul,  who  came  to  our  inn,  said  to  me  myste 
riously,  "  I'm  told  we've  got  Punch  on  board."  I 
took  him  aside,  and  pointed  him  out  (in  confidence) 
MR.  WADDILOVE,  the  stupidest  man  of  all  our  party, 
as  the  author  in  question. 

Somewhat  to  my  annoyance  (for  I  was  compelled 
to  maintain  my  privacy),  MR.  W.  was  asked  to  a 
splendid  dinner  in  consequence  —  a  dinner  which 
ought  by  rights  to  have  fallen  to  my  share.  It  was 
a  consolation  to  me  however  to  think,  as  I  ate  my 
solitary  repast  at  one  of  the  dearest  and  worst  inns 
I  ever  entered,  that  though  /  might  be  overlooked, 
Punch  was  respected  in  the  land  of  SOCRATES  and 
PERICLES. 

At  the  Piraeus  we  took  on  board  four  young  gen 
tlemen  from  Oxford,  who  had  been  visiting  the  scenes 
consecrated  to  them  by  the  delightful  associations  of 
the  Little  Go  ;  and  as  they  paced  the  deck  and  look 
ed  at  the  lambent  stars  that  twinkled  on  the  bay 
once  thronged  with  the  galleys  of  THEMISTOCLES, — 
what,  sir,  do  you  think  was  the  song  they  chanted  in 
chorus  ?  Was  it  a  lay  of  burning  SAPPHO  ?  Was  it 
a  thrilling  ode  of  ALC^EUS  ?  No  ;  it  was — 

"  Had  I  an  ass  averse  to  speed, 
Deem  ye  I'd  strike  him  ?  no,  indeed,"  &c. 


PUNCH   IN    THE    EAST.  167 

which  you  had  immortalised,  I  recollect,  in  your 
Vol.  6!  (Donkeys,  it -must  be  premised,  are  most 
numerous  and  nourishing  in  Attica,  commonly  be 
stridden  by  the  modern  Greeks,  and  no 'doubt  exten 
sively  popular  among  the  ancients — unless  human 
nature  has  very  much  changed  since  their  time.) 
Thus  we  find  that  Punch  is  respected  at  Oxford  as 
well  as  in  Athens,  and  I  trust  at  Cambridge,  like 
wise. 

As  we  sailed  through  the  blue  Bosphorus  at  mid 
night,  the  Health  of  Punch  was  enthusiastically 
drunk  in  the  delicious  beverage  which  shares  his  re 
spectable  name ;  and  the  ghosts  of  HERO  and  LEAN- 
DER  must  have  been  startled  at  hearing  songs  appro 
priate  to  the  toast,  and  very  different  from  those  with 
which  I  have  no  doubt  they  amused  each  other  in 
times  so  affectingly  described  in  LEMPRIERE'S  de 
lightful  Dictionary.  I  did  not  see  the  Golden  Horn 
at  Constantinople,  nor  hear  it  blown,  probably  on  ac 
count  of  the  fog  ;  but  this  I  can  declare,  that  Punch 
was  on  the  table  at  Miestre's  Hotel,  Pera,  the  spirited 
proprietor  of  which  little  knew  that  one  of  its  hum 
blest  contributors  ate  his  pilaff.  Pilaff,  by  the  way, 
is  very  good :  kabobs  are  also  excellent ;  my  friend, 
MECHMET  EFFENDI,  who  keeps  the  kabob  shop,  close 
by  the  Rope-bazaar  in  Constantinople,  sells  as  good 
as  any  in  town.  At  the  Armenian  shops,  too,  you 
get  a  sort  of  raisin  wine  at  two  piastres  a  bottle,  over 


168  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

•which  a  man  can  spend  an  agreeable  half  hour.  I 
did  not  hear  what  the  SULTAN  ABDUL  MEDJID  thinks 
of  Punch,  but  of  wine  he  is  said  to  be  uncommonly 
fond.  * 

At  Alexandria,  there  lay  the  picture  of  the  dear 
and  venerable  old  face,  on  the  table  of  the  British 
hotel ;  and  the  140  passengers  from  Burrumtollah, 
Chowringhee,  &c.  (now  on  their  way  to  England  per 
Burrumpooter),  rushed  upon  it — it  was  the  July 
number,  with  my  paper,  which  you  may  remember 
made  such  a  sensation — even  more  eagerly  than  on 
pale  ale.  I  made  cautious  inquiries  amongst  them 
(never  breaking  the  incognito)  regarding  the  influ 
ence  of  Punch  in  our  vast  Indian  territories.  They 
say  that  from  Cape  Comorin  to  the  Sutlege,  and 
from  the  Sutlege  to  the  borders  of  Thibet,  nothing  is 
talked  of  but  Punch.  DOST  MAHOMMED  never  misses 
a  single  number ;  and  the  Tharawaddie  knows  the 
figure  of  LORD  BROUGHAM  and  his  Scotch  trowsers, 
as  well  as  that 'of  his  favourite  vizier.  Punch,  my 
informant  states,  has  rendered  his  Lordship  so  popu 
lar  throughout  our  Eastern  possessions,  that  were  he 
to  be  sent  out  to  India  as  Governor,  the  whole  army 
and  people  would  shout  with  joyful  recognition.  I 
throw  out  this  for  the  consideration  of  Government 
at  home. 

I  asked  BUCKSHEESH  PASHA  (with  whom  I  had 
the  honour  of  dining  at  Cairo)  what  his  august 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  169 

Master  thought  of  Punch.  And  AT  THE  PYRAMIDS — 
but  of  these  in  another  letter.  You  have  here  enough 
to  show  you  how  kingly  the  diadem,  boundless  the 
sway,  of  Punch  is  in  the  East.  By  it  we  are  enabled 
to  counterbalance  the  influence  of  the  French  in 
Egypt ;  by  it  we  are  enabled  to  spread  civilisation 
over  the  vast  Indian  Continent,  to  soothe  the  irritated 
feelings  of  the  Sikhs,  and  keep  the  Burmese  in  good 
humour.  By  means  of  Punch,  it  has  been  our  priv 
ilege  to  expose  the  designs  of  Russia  more  effectually 
than  URQUHART  ever  did,  and  to  this  SIR  STRATFORD 
CANNING  can  testify.  A  proud  and  noble  post  is  that 
which  you,  Sir,  hold  over  the  Intellect  of  the  World; 
a  tremendous  power  you  exercise !  May  you  ever 
wield  it  wisely  and  gently  as  now  !  "  Subjectis  par- 
cere  superbos  debellare,"  be  your  motto  !  I  forget 
whether  I  mentioned  in  my  last  that  I  was  without 
funds  in  quarantine  at  Fort  Manuel,  Malta,  and  shall 
anxiously  expect  the  favour  of  a  communication  from 
you — Poste  Restante — at  that  town. 

With  assurances  of  the  highest  consideration, 
Believe  me  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  most  faithful  Servant  and  Correspondent, 
The  F —  CONTRIBUTOR. 

P.  S. — We  touched  at  Smyrna,  where  I  pur 
chased  a  real  Smyrna  sponge,  which  trifle  I  hope 
your  lady  will  accept  for  her  toilet ;  some  real  Turkey 


170  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

rhubarb  for  your  dear  children ;  and  a  friend  going 
to  Syria  has  promised  to  procure  for  me  some  real 
Jerusalem  artichokes,  which  I  hope  to  see  flourishing 
in  your  garden  at . 

[This  letter  was  addressed  "  strictly  private  and 
confidential "  to  us :  but  at  a  moment  when  all  men's 
minds  are  turned  towards  the  East,  and  every  infor 
mation  regarding  "  the  cradle  of  civilisation "  is 
anxiously  looked  for,  we  have  deemed  it  our  duty  to 
submit  our  Correspondent's  letter  to  the  public.  The 
news  which  it  contains  are  so  important  and  startling 
— our  correspondent's  views  of  Eastern  affairs  so 
novel  and  remarkable — that  they  must  make  an  im 
pression  in  Europe.  We  beg  the  Observer,  the  Times, 
&c.,  to  have  the  goodness  to  acknowledge  their  au 
thority,  if  they  avail  themselves  of  our  facts.  And 
for  us,  it  cannot  but  be  a  matter  of  pride  and  gratifi 
cation  to  think — on  the  testimony  of  a  correspondent 
who  has  never  deceived  us  yet — that  our  efforts  for 
the  good  of  mankind  are  appreciated  by  such  vast 
and  various  portions  of  the  human  race,  and  that  our 
sphere  of  usefulness  is  so  prodigiously  on  the  in- 
crease.  Were  it  not  that  dinner  has  been  announced 
(and  consequently  is  getting  cold),  we  would  add 
more.  For  the  present,  let  us  content  ourselves  by 
stating  that  the  intelligence  conveyed  to  us  is  most 
welcome  as  it  is  most  surprising,  the  occasion  of 


PUNCH   IN    THE    EAST.  171 

heartfelt  joy,  and,  we  hope,  of  deep  future  medita 
tion.] 


III. 


ATHENS. 

I  SEND  a  picture  of  some  beautiful  windmills  near 
Athens,  not  I  believe  depicted  by  any  other  artist, 
and  which  I  daresay  some  people  will  admire  because 
they  are  Athenian  windmills.  The  world  is  made 
so. 

I  was  not  a  brilliant  boy  at  school — the  only 
prize  I  ever  remember  to  have  got  was  in  a  kind  of 
lottery  in  which  I  was  obliged  to  subscribe  with  sev 
enteen  other  competitors — and  of  which  the  prize  was 
a  flogging.  That  I  won.  But  I  don't  think  I  car 
ried  off  any  other.  Possibly  from  laziness,  or  if  you 
please  from  incapacity,  but  I  certainly  was  rather 
inclined  to  be  of  the  side  of  the  dunces — SIR  WALTER 
SCOTT,  it  will  be  recollected,  was  of  the  same  species. 
Many  young  plants  sprouted  up  round  about  both  of 
us,  I  daresay,  with  astonishing  rapidity — but  they 
have  gone  to  seed  ere  this,  or  were  never  worth  the 
cultivation.  Great  genius  is  of  slower  growth. 

I  always  had  my  doubts  about  the  classics.  When 
I  saw  a  brute  of  a  schoolmaster,  whose  mind  was  as 
coarse-grained  as  any  ploughboy's  in  Christendom ; 
whose  manners  were  those  of  the  most  insufferable  of 


172  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

Heaven's  creatures,  the  English  snob  trying  to  turn 
gentleman ;  whose  lips,  when  they  were  not  mouthing 
Greek  or  grammar,  were  yelling  out  the  most  brutal 
abuse  of  poor  little  cowering  gentlemen  standing  be 
fore  him  :  when  I  saw  this  kind  of  man  (and  the  in 
structors  of  youth  are  selected  very  frequently  indeed 
out  of  this  favoured  class)  and  heard  him  roar  out 
praises,  and  pump  himself  up  into  enthusiasm  for, 
certain  Greek  poetry, — I  say  I  had  my  doubts  about 
the  genuineness  of  the  article.  A  man  may  well 
thump  you  or  call  you  names  because  you  won't  learn 
— but  I  never  could  take  to  the  proffered  delicacy ; 
the  fingers  that  offered  it  were  so  dirty.  Fancy  the 
brutality  of  a  man  who  began  a  Greek  grammar  with 
"  rum-Co,  I  thrash  !  "  We  were  all  made  to  begin  it 
in  that  way. 

When  then  I  came  to  Athens,  and  saw  that  it  was 
a  humbug,  I  hailed  the  fact  with  a  sort  of  gloomy 
joy.  I  stood  in  the  Royal  Square  and  cursed  the 
country  which  has  made  thousands  of  little  boys 
miserable.  They  have  blue  stripes  on  the  new  Greek 
flag ;  I  thought  bitterly  of  my  own.  I  wished  that 
my  schoolmaster  had  been  in  the  place,  that  we  might 
have  fought  there  for  the  right;  and  that  I  might 
have  immolated  him  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  manes  of 
little  boys  flogged  into  premature  Hades,  or  pining 
away  and  sickening  under  the  destiny  of  that  infer 
nal  Greek  grammar.  I  have  often  thought  that 


PUNCH   IN    THE    EAST.  173 


those  little  cherubs  who  are  carved  on  tombstones 
and  are  represented  as  possessing  a  head  and  wings 
only,  are  designed  to  console  little  children — usher 
and  beadle-belaboured — and  say  "  there  is  no  flogging 
where  we  are."  From  their  conformation,  it  is  im 
possible.  Woe  to  the  man  who  has  harshly  treated 
one  of  them  ! 

Of  the  ancient  buildings  in  this  beggarly  town  it 
is  not  my  business  to  speak.  Between  ourselves  it 
must  be  acknowledged  that  there  was  some  merit  in 
the  Heathens  who  constructed  them.  But  of  the 
Temple  of  Jupiter,  of  which  some  columns  still  re 
main,  I  declare  with  confidence  that  not  one  of  them 
is  taller  than  our  own  glorious  Monument  on  Fish- 
Street-Hill,  which  I  heartily  wish  to  see  again,  whereas 
upon  the  columns  of  Jupiter  I  never  more  desire  to 
set  eyes.  On  the  Acropolis  and  its  temples  and  tow 
ers  I  shall  also  touch  briefly.  The  frieze  of  the  Par 
thenon  is  well-known  in  England,  the  famous  chevauz 
de  frieze  being  carried  off  by  LORD  ELGIN,  and  now 
in  the  British  Museum,  Great  Russell  Street,  Blooms- 
bury.  The  Erectheum  is  another  building,  which  I 
suppose  has  taken  its  name  from  the  genteel  club  in 
London  at  a  corner  of  St.  James's  Square.  It  is  like 
wise  called  the  Temple  of  Minerva  Polias — a  capital 
name  for  a  club  in  London  certainly ;  fancy  gentle 
men  writing  on  their  cards  "  MR.  JONES.  Temple-of- 


174  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

Minerva-Polias  Club." — Our  country  is  surely  the 
most  classical  of  islands. 

As  for  the  architecture  of  that  temple,  if  it  be 
not  entirely  stolen  from  St.  Prancras  Church,  New 
Road,  or  vice  versa,  I  am  a  Dutchman.  "  The  Tower 
of  the  Winds  "  may  be  seen  any  day  at  Edinburgh — 
and  the  Lantern  of  Demosthenes  is  at  this  very  min 
ute  perched  on  the  top  of  the  church  in  Regent  Street, 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  lantern  of  MR.  DRUM- 
MOND.  Only  in  London  you  have  them  all  in  much 
better  preservation — the  noses  of  the  New  Road 
Caryatides  are  not  broken  as  those  of  their  sisters 
here.  The  temple  of  the  Scotch  winds  I  am  pleased 
to  say  I  have  never  seen,  but  I  have  no  doubt  it  is 
worthy  of  the  Modern  Athens — and  as  for  the  Cho- 
ragic  temple  of  Lysicrates,  erroneously  called  Demos 
thenes'  Lantern — from  Waterloo  Place  you  can  see  it 
well :  whereas  here  it  is  a  ruin  in  the  midst  of  a 
huddle  of  dirty  huts,  whence  you  try  in  vain  to  get  a 
good  view  of  it. 

When  I  say  of  the  temple  of  Theseus  (quoting 
MURRAY'S  Guide-Book)  that  "  it  is  a  peripteral  hexa- 
style  with  a  pronaos,  a  posticum  and  two  columns 
between  the  antae,"  the  commonest  capacity  may  per 
fectly  imagine  the  place.  Fancy  it  upon  an  irregular 
ground  of  copper-coloured  herbage,  with  black  goats 
feeding  on  it,  and  the  sound  of  perpetual  donkeys 
braying  round  about.  Fancy  to  the  south-east  the 


PUNCH   IN    THE    EAST.  175 

purple  rocks  and  towers  of  the  Acropolis  meeting  the 
eye — to  the  south-east  the  hilly  islands  and  the  blue 
JBgean.  Fancy  the  cobalt  sky  above,  and  the  tem 
ple  itself  (built  of  Pentelic  marble)  of  the  exact  co 
lour  and  mouldiness  of  a  ripe  Stilton  cheese,  and  you 
have  the  view  before  you  as  well  as  if  you  had  been 
there. 

As  for  the  modern  buildings — there  is  the  Royal 
Palace,  built  in  the  style  of  High-Dutch-Greek,  and 
resembling  Newgate  whitewashed  and  standing  on  a 
sort  of  mangy  desert. 

The  KING'S  German  guards  (^TTLT^OV^OL)  have 
left  him  perforce  ;  he  is  now  attended  by  petticoated 
Albanians,  and  I  saw  one  of  the  palace  sentries,  as 
the  sun  was  shining  on  his  sentry-box,  wisely  couched 
behind  it. 

The  Chambers  were  about  to  sit  when  we  arrived. 
The  Deputies  were  thronging  to  the  capital.  One  of 
them  had  come  as  a  third-class  passenger  of  an  Eng 
lish  steamer,  took  a  first-class  place,  and  threatened 
to  blow  out  the  brains  of  the  steward,  who  remon 
strated  with  him  on  the  irregularity.  It  is  quite 
needless  to  say  that  he  kept  his  place — and  as  the 
honourable  deputy  could  not  read,  of  course  he  could 
not  be  expected  to  understand  the  regulations  impo 
sed  by  the  avaricious  proprietors  of  the  boat  in  ques 
tion.  Happy  is  the  country  to  have  such  makers  of 


176  THE   FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

laws,  and  to  enjoy  the  liberty  consequent  upon  the 
representative  system ! 

Besides  OTHO'S  palace  in  the  great  square,  there 
is  another  house  and  an  hotel ;  a  fountain  is  going  to 
be  erected,  and  roads  even  are  to  be  made.  At  pres 
ent  the  KING  drives  up  and  down  over  the  mangy  plain 
before-mentioned,  and  the  grand  officers  of  state  go 
up  to  the  palace  on  donkeys. 

As  for  the  Hotel  Royal — the  Folkstone  Hotel 
might  take  a  lesson  from  it — they  charge  five  shillings 
sterling  (the  coin  of  the  country  is  the  gamma,  lambda, 
and  delta,  which  I  never  could  calculate)  for  a  bed  in 
a  double-bedded  room ;  and  our  poor  young  friend 
SCRATCHLEY,  with  whom  I  was  travelling,  was  com 
pelled  to  leave  his  and  sit  for  safety  on  a  chair,  on  a 
table  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

As  for  me — but  I  will  not  relate  my  own  paltry 
sufferings.  The  post  goes  out  in  half  an  hour,  and 
I  had  thought  ere  its  departure  to  have  described  to 
you  Constantinople  and  my  interview  with  the  Sultan 
there — his  splendid  offers — the  PRINCESS  BADROUL- 
BADOUR,  the  order  of  the  Nisham,  the  Pashalic  with 
three  tails — and  my  firm  but  indignant  rejection.  I 
had  thought  to  describe  Cairo — interview  with  ME- 
HE'MET  ALI — proposals  of  that  Prince — splendid  feast 
at  the  house  of  my  dear  friend  BUCKSHEESH  PASHA, 
dancing-girls  and  magicians  after  dinner,  and  their 
extraordinary  disclosures  !  But  I  should  fill  volumes 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  177 

at  this  rate ;  and   I  can't,  like  MR.  JAMES,  write  a 
volume  between  breakfast  and  luncheon. 

I  have  only  time  rapidly  to  jot  down  my  great 

ADVENTURE  AT  THE  PYRAMIDS and    Punches    enthrO- 

nization  there. 


IV. 

PUNCH    AT    THE    PYRAMIDS. 

THE  19th  day  of  October,  1844  (the  seventh  day 
of  the  month  Hudjmudj,  and  the  1229th  year  of  the 
Mohammedan  Hejira,  corresponding  with  the  16,769th 
anniversary  of  the  48th  incarnation  of  Veeshnoo),  is 
a  day  that  ought  hereafter  to  be  considered  eternally 
famous  in  the  climes  of  the  East  and  West.  I  for 
get  what  was  the  day  of  GENERAL  BONAPARTE'S  battle 
of  the  Pyramids  ;  I  think  it  was  in  the  month  Quin- 
tidi  of  the  year  Nivose  of  the  French  Republic,  and 
he  told  his  soldiers  that  forty  centuries  looked  down 
upon  them  from  the  summit  of  those  buildings — a 
statement  which  I  very  much  doubt.  But  I  say  THE 
19TH  DAY  OF  OCTOBER,  1844,  is  the  most  important 
era  v  in  the  modern  world's  history.  It  unites  the 
modern  with  the  ancient  civilisation ;  it  couples  the 
brethren  of  WATT  and  COBDEN  with  the  dusky  family 
of  PHARAOH  and  SESOSTRIS;  it  fuses  HERODOTUS 
with  THOMAS  BABINGTON  MACAULAY  ;  it  intertwines 

8* 


178  THE  FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

the  piston  of  the  blond  Anglo-Saxon  steam-engine 
with  the  Needle  of  the  Abyssinian  CLEOPATRA  ;  it 
weds  the  tunnel  of  the  subaqueous  BRUNEL  with 
the  mystic  edifice  of  CHEOPS.  Strange  play  of  way 
ward  fancy !  Ascending  the  Pyramid,  I  could  not 
but  think  of  Waterloo  Bridge  in  my  dear  native 
London — a  building  as  vast  and  as  magnificent,  as 
beautiful,  as  useless,  and  as  lonely.  Forty  centuries 
have  not  as  yet  passed  over  the  latter  structure,  'tis 
true  ;  scarcely  an  equal  number  of  hackney-coaches 
have  crossed  it.  But  I  doubt  whether  the  individuals 
who  contributed  to  raise  it  are  likely  to  receive  a 
better  dividend  for  their  capital  than  the  swarthy 
shareholders  in  the  Pyramid  speculation,  whose  dust 
has  long  since  been  trampled  over  by  countless  gene 
rations  of  their  sons. 

If  I  use  in  the  above  sentence  the  longest  words 
I  can  find,  it  is  because  the  occasion  is  great  and  de 
mands  the  finest  phrases  the  dictionary  can  supply ; 
it  is  because  I  have  not  read  TOM  MACAULAY  in  vain ; 
it  is  because  I  wish  to  show  I  am  a  dab  in  history, 
as  the  above  dates  will  testify ;  it  is  because  I  have 
seen  the  Reverend  MR.  MJLMAN  preach  in  a  black 
gown  at  Saint  Margaret's,  whereas  at  the  Coronation 
he  wore  a  gold  cope.  The  19th  of  October  was 
Punch's  Coronation ;  I  officiated  at  the  august  cere 
mony.  To  be  brief — as  illiterate  readers  may  not 
understand  a  syllable  of  the  above  piece  of  ornamen- 


PUNCH   IN   THE    EAST.  179 

tal  eloquence — ON    THE  19ra  OF  OCTOBER,  1844,  I 

PASTED  THE  GREAT  PLACARD  OF  PUNCH  ON  THE  PY 
RAMID  OF  CHEOPS.  I  did  it.  The  fat  contributor 
did  it.  If  I  die,  it  could  not  be  undone.  If  I  perish, 
I  have  not  lived  in  vain. 

If  the  forty  centuries  are  on  the  summit  of  the 
Pyramids,  as  BONAPARTE  remarks,  all  I  can  say  is,  I 
did  not  see  them.  But  Punch  has  really  been  there ; 
this  I  swear.  One  placard  I  pasted  on  the  first 
landing-place  (who  knows  how  long  Arab  rapacity 
will  respect  the  sacred  hieroglyphic?).  One  I  placed 
under  a  great  stone  on  the  summit ;  one  I  waved  in 
air,  as  my  Arabs  raised  a  mighty  cheer  round  the 
peaceful  victorious  banner ;  and  I  flung  it  towards 
the  sky,  which  the  Pyramid  almost  touches,  and  left 
it  to  its  fate,  to  mount  into  the  azure  vault  and  take 
its  place  among  the  constellations ;  to  light  on  the 
eternal  Desert,  and  mingle  with  its  golden  sands ;  or 
to  flutter  and  drop  into  the  purple  waters  of  the 
neighbouring  Nile,  to  swell  its  fructifying  inundations, 
and  mingle  with  the  rich  vivifying  influence  which 
shoots  into  the  tall  palm-trees  on  its  banks,  and  gene 
rates  the  waving  corn. 

I  wonder  were  there  any  signs  or  omens  in  Lon 
don  when  that  event  occurred?  Did  an  earthquake  take 
place  ?  Did  Stocks  or  the  Barometer  preternaturally 
rise  or  fall  ?  It  matters  little.  Let  it  suffice  that 
the  thing  has  been  done,  and  forms  an  event  in  His- 


180  THE    PAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

tory  by  the  side  of  those  other  facts  to  which  these 
prodigious  monuments  bear  testimony.  Now  to  nar 
rate  briefly  the  circumstances  of  the  day. 

On  Thursday,  October  1 7, 1  caused  my  dragoman 
to  purchase  in  the  Frank  bazaar  at  Grand  Cairo  the 
following  articles,  which  will  be  placed  in  the  Museum 
on  my  return. 

A  tin  pot,  holding  about  a  pint,  a  packet  of  flour, 
and  a  pig-skin  brush  of  the  sort  commonly  used  in 
Europe — the  whole  costing  about  five  piastres,  or  one 
shilling  sterling.  They  were  all  the  implements 
needful  for  this  tremendous  undertaking. 

Horses  of  the  Mosaic  Arab  breed,  I  mean  those 
animals  called  Jerusalem  ponies  by  some  in  England, 
by  others  denominated  donkeys,  are  the  common 
means  of  transport  employed  by  the  subjects  of 
MEHEMET  ALL  My  excellent  friend  BUCKSHEESH 
PASHA  would  have  mounted  me  either  on  his  favour 
ite  horse,  or  his  best  dromedary.  But  I  declined 
those  proffers — if  I  fall,  I  like  better  to  fall  from  a 
short  distance  than  a  high  one.  I  have  tried  tumbling 
in  both  ways,  and  recommend  the  latter  as  by  far  the 
pleasantest  and  safest.  I  chose  the  Mosaic  Arab 
then — one  for  the  dragoman,  one  for  the  requisites 
of  refreshment,  and  two  for  myself — not  that  I  pro 
posed  to  ride  two  at  once,  but  a  person  of  a  certain 
dimension  had  best  have  a  couple  of  animals  in  case 
of  accident. 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  181 

I  left  Cairo  on  the  afternoon  of  October  18,  never 
hinting  to  a  single  person  the  mighty  purpose  of  my 
journey.  The  waters  were  out,  and  we  had  to  cross 
them  thrice — twice  in  track-boats,  once  on  the  shoul 
ders  of  abominable  Arabs,  who  take  a  pleasure  in 
slipping  and  in  making  believe  to  plunge  you  in  the 
stream.  When  in  the  midst  of  it,  the  brutes  stop  and 
demand  money  of  you — you  are  alarmed,  the  savages 
may  drop  you  if  you  do  not  give — you  promise  that 
you  will  do  so.  The  half-naked  ruffians  who  conduct 
you  up  the  Pyramid,  when  they  have  got  you  panting 
to  the  most  steep,  dangerous,  and  lonely  stone,  make 
the  same  demand,  pointing  downwards  while  they 
beg,  as  if  they  would  fling  you  in  that  direction  on 
refusal.  As  soon  as  you  have  breath,  you  promise 
more  money — it  is  the  best  way — you  are  a  fool  if 
you  give  it  when  you  come  down. 

The  journey  I  find  briefly  set  down  in  my  pocket- 
book  as  thus: — Cairo  Gardens — Mosquitoes — Women 
dressed  in  blue — Children  dressed  in  nothing — Old 
Cairo — Nile,  dirty  water,  ferry-boat — Town — Palm- 
trees,  ferry-boat,  canal,  palm-trees,  town — Rice-fields 
—  Maize-fields — Fellows  on  dromedaries — Donkey 
down — Over  his  head — Pick  up  pieces — More  palm- 
trees  —  More  rice-fields  —  Water-courses  —  Howling 
Arabs — Donkey  tumble  down  again — Inundations — 
Herons  or  cranes — Broken  bridges  —  Sands — Pyra 
mids. — If  a  man  cannot  make  a  landscape  out  of  that 


182  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

he  has  no  imagination.  Let  him  paint  the  skies  very 
blue — the  sands  very  yellow — the  plains  very  flat  and 
green — the  dromedaries  and  palm-trees  very  tall — 
the  women  very  brown,  some  with  veils,  some  with 
nose-rings,  some  tattooed,  and  none  with  stays — and 
the  picture  is  complete.  You  may  shut  your  eyes 
and  fancy  yourself  there.  It  is  the  pleasantest  way, 
entre  nous. 

V. 

PUNCH   AT   THE    PYRAMIDS.  "*" 

(CONCLtTDED.) 

IT  is  all  very  well  to  talk  of  sleeping  in  the 
tombs ;  that  question  has  been  settled  in  a  former 
paper,  where  I  have  stated  my  belief  that  people  do 
not  sleep  at  all  in  Egypt.  I  thought  to  have  had 
some  tremendous  visions  under  the  shadow  of  those 
enormous  Pyramids  reposing  under  the  stars.  PHA 
RAOH  or  CLEOPATRA,  I  thought,  might  appear  to  me 
in  a  dream.  But  how  could  they,  as  I  didn't  go  to 
sleep  ?  I  hoped  for  high  thoughts,  and  secret  com- 
munings  with  the  Spirit  of  Poesy — I  hoped  to  have 
let  off  a  sonnet  at  least,  as  gentlemen  do  on  visiting 
the  spot — but  how  could  I  hunt  for  rhymes,  being 
occupied  all  night  in  hunting  for  something  else  ?  If 
this  remonstrance  will  deter  a  single  person  from  go 
ing  to  the  Pyramids,  my  purpose  is  fully  answered. 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  183 

But  my  case  was  different.  I  had  a  duty  to  per 
form — I  had  to  introduce  Punch  to  CHEOPS — I  had 
vowed  to  leave  his  card  at  the  gates  of  History — I 
had  a  mission,  in  a  word.  I  roused  at  sunrise  the 
snoring  dragoman  from  his  lair.  I  summoned  the 
four  Arabs  who  had  engaged  to  assist  me  in  the  as 
cent,  and  in  the  undertaking.  We  lighted  a  fire 
of  camel's  dung  at  the  North-East  corner  of  the  Pyr 
amid,  just  as  the  god  of  day  rose  over  Cairo  !  The 
embers  began  to  glow,  water  was  put  into  the  tin  pot 
before  mentioned, — the  pot  was  put  on  the  fire — 'twas 
a  glorious — a  thrilling  moment ! 

At  46  minutes  past  6,  A.M.  (by  one  of  DOLLOND'S 
Chronometers),  the  water  began  to  boil. 

At  47  minutes  the  flour  was  put  gradually  into 
the  water — it  was  stirred  with  the  butt-end  of  the 
brush  bought  for  the  purpose,  and  SCHMAKLEK  BEG, 
an  Arab,  peeping  over  the  pot  too  curiously,  I  poked 
the  brush  into  his  mouth  at  1 1  minutes  before  7,  A.M. 

At  7,  THE  PASTE  WAS  MADE — doubting  whether  it 
was  thick  enough,  SCHMAKLEK  tried  it  with  his  finger. 
It  was  pronounced  to  be  satisfactory. 

At  1 1  minutes  past  7,  I  turned  round  in  a  ma 
jestic  attitude  to  the  four  Arabs,  and  said,  "  Let  us 
mount."  I  suggest  this  scene,  this  moment,  this  atti 
tude,  to  the  Committee  of  the  Fine  Arts  as  a  proper 
subject  for  the  Houses  of  Parliament — Punch  point 
ing  to  the  Pyramids,  and  introducing  civilisation  to 


184  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

Egypt — I  merely  throw  it  out  as  a  suggestion.  What 
a  grand  thing  the  MESSIEURS  FOGGO  would  make 
of  it! 

Having  given  the  signal — the  Sheikh  of  the 
Arabs  seized  my  right  arm,  and  his  brother  the  left. 
Two  volunteer  Arabs  pushed  me  (quite  unnecessarily) 
behind.  The  other  two  preceded — one  with  a  water- 
bottle  for  refreshment ;  the  other  with  the  posters — 
the  pot — the  paint-brush  and  the  paste.  Away  we 
went — away ! 

I  was  blown  at  the  third  step.  They  are  exceed 
ingly  lofty ;  about  5  feet  high  each,  I  should  think — 
but  the  ardent  spirit  will  break  his  heart  to  win  the 
goal — besides  I  could  not  go  back  if  I  would.  The 
two  Arabs  dragged  me  forward  by  the  arms — the 
volunteers  pushed  me  up  from  behind.  It  was  in 
vain  I  remonstrated  with  the  latter,  kicking  violently 
as  occasion  offered — they  still  went  on  pushing.  We 
arrived  at  the  first  landing-place. 

I  drew  out  the  poster — how  it  fluttered  in  the 
breeze  ! — with  a  trembling  hand  I  popped  the  brush 
into  the  paste  pot,  and  smeared  the  back  of  the  pla 
card,  then  I  pasted  up  the  Standard  of  our  glorious 
leader — at  19  minutes  past  7,  by  the  clock  of  the 
great  minaret  at  Cairo,  which  was  clearly  visible 
through  my  refracting  telescope.  My  heart  throbbed 
when  the  deed  was  done.  My  eyes  filled  with  tears 
— I  am  not  at  liberty  to  state  here  all  the  emotions 


PUNCH    IN    THE    EAST.  185 

of  triumph  and  joy  which  rose  in  my  bosom — so  ex 
quisitely  overpowering  were  they.  There  was  Punch 
— familiar  old  Punch — his  back  to  the  desert,  his 
beaming  face  turned  towards  the  Nile. 

"  Bless  him  !"  I  exclaimed,  embracing  him  ;  and 
almost  choking,  gave  the  signal  to  the  Arabs  to 
move  on. 

These  savage  creatures  are  only  too  ready  to 
obey  an  order  of  this  nature.  They  spin  a  man 
along  be  his  size  never  so  considerable.  They  rat 
tled  up  to  the  second  landing  so  swiftly  that  I 
thought  I  should  be  broken-winded  for  ever.  But 
they  gave  us  little  time  to  halt.  Yallah  !  Again  we 
mount ! — 'tis  the  last  and  most  arduous  ascent — the 
limbs  quiver,  the  pulses  beat,  the  eyes  shoot  out  of 
the  head,  the  brain  reels,  the  knees  tremble  and  tot 
ter,  and  you  are  on  the  summit !  I  don't  know  how 
many  hundred  thousand  feet  it  is  above  the  level  of 
the  sea,  but  I  wonder  after  that  tremendous  exercise 
that  I  am  not  a  roarer  to  my  dying  hour. 

When  consciousness  and  lungs  regained  their 
play,  another  copy  of  the  placard  was  placed  under 
a  stone — a  third  was  launched  into  air  in  the  man 
ner  before  described,  and  we  gave  three  immense 
cheers  for  Punch,  which  astonished  the  undiscovered 
mummies  that  lie  darkling  in  tomb-chambers,  and 
must  have  disturbed  the  broken-nosed  old  Sphinx 
who  has  been  couched  for  thousands  of  years  in  the 


186  THE    FAT    CONTRIBUTOR. 

desert  hard  by.      This  done,  we  made  our  descent 
from  the  P}Tramids. 

And  if,  my  dear  Sir,  you  ask  me  whether  it  is 
worth  a  man's  while  to  mount  up  those  enormous 
stones,  I  will  say  in  confidence  that  thousands  of  peo 
ple  went  to  see  the  Bottle  Conjuror,  and  that  we 
hear  of  gentlemen  becoming  Free-Masons  every  day. 


TEAVBLS    IN    LONDON. 


TRAVELS   IN   LONDON. 

THE  CURATE'S  WALK. 
I. 

IT  was  the  third  out  of  the  four  bell -buttons  at  the 
door  at  which  my  friend  the  curate  pulled  ;  and  the 
summons  was  answered  after  a  brief  interval. 

I  must  premise  that  the  house  before  which  we 
stopped  was  No.  14,  Sedan  Buildings,  leading  out  of 
Great  Guelph  Street,  Dettingen  Street,  Culloden 
Street,  Minden  Square ;  and  Upper  and  Lower  Car 
oline  Row  form  part  of  the  same  quarter — a  very 
queer  and  solemn  quarter  to  walk  in,  I  think,  and 
one  which  always  suggests  FIELDING'S  novels  to  me. 
I  can  fancy  CAPTAIN  BOOTH  strutting  out  of  the  very 
door  at  which  we  were  standing,  in  tarnished  lace, 
with  his  hat  cocked  over  his  eye,  and  his  hand  on  his 
hanger ;  or  LADY  BELLASTON'S  chair  and  bearers 
coming  swinging  down  Great  Guelph  Street,  which 
we  have  just  quitted  to  enter  Sedan  Buildings. 

Sedan  Buildings  is  a  little  flagged  square,  ending 


190  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

abruptly  with  the  huge  walls  of  BLUCK'S  Brewery. 
The  houses,  by  many  degrees  smaller  than  the  large  de 
cayed  tenements  in  Great  Guelph  Street,  are  still  not 
uncomfortable,  although  shabby.  There  are  brass- 
plates  on  the  doors,  two  on  some  of  them  ;  or  simple 
names,  as  "  LUNT,"  "  PADGEMORE,"  &c.  (as  if  no 
other  statement  about  LUNT  and  PADGEMORE  were 
necessary  at  all)  under  the  bells.  There  are  pictures 
of  mangles  before  two  of  the  houses,  and  a  gilt  arm 
with  a  hammer  sticking  out  from  one.  I  never  saw 
a  Goldbeater.  What  sort  of  a  being  is  he  that  he 
always  sticks  out  his  ensign  in  dark,  mouldy,  lonely, 
dreary,  but  somewhat  respectable  places?  What 
powerful  Mulciberian  fellows  they  must  be,  those  Gold 
beaters,  whacking  and  thumping  with  huge  mallets 
at  the  precious  metals  all  day.  I  wonder  what  is 
Goldbeaters'  skin  ?  and  do  they  get  impregnated  with 
the  metal?  and  are  their  great  arms  under  their 
clean  shirts  on  Sundays,  all  gilt  and  shining  ? 

It  is  a  quiet,  kind,  respectable  place  somehow,  in 
spite  of  its  shabbiness.  Two  pewter  pints  and  a 
jolly  little  half-pint  are  hanging  on  the  railings  in 
perfect  confidence,  basking  in  what  little  sun  comes 
into  the  Court.  A  group  of  small  children  are  mak 
ing  an  ornament  of  oyster-shells  in  one  corner.  Who 
has  that  half-pint  ?  Is  it  for  one  of  those  small  ones, 
or  for  some  delicate  female  recommended  to  take 
beer?  The  windows  in  the  Court,  upon  some  of 


191 

which  the  sun  glistens,  are  not  cracked,  and  pretty 
clean  ;  it  is  only  the  black  and  dreary  look  behind 
which  gives  them  a  poverty-stricken  appearance.  No 
curtains  or  blinds.  A  bird-cage  and  a  very  few  pots 
of  flowers  here  and  there.  This — with  the  exception 
of  a  milkman  talking  to  a  whitey-brown  woman, 
made  up  of  bits  of  flannel  and  strips  of  faded  chintz 
and  calico  seemingly,  and  holding  a  long  bundle  which 
cried — this  was  all  I  saw  in  Sedan  Buildings  while  we 
were  waiting  until  the  door  should  open. 

At  last  the  door  was  opened,  and  by  a  porteress 
so  small,  that  I  wonder  how  she  ever  could  have 
reached  up  to  the  latch.  She  bobbed  a  curtsey  and 
smiled  at  the  Curate,  whose  face  gleamed  with 
benevolence  too,  in  reply  to  that  salutation. 

"  Mother  not  at  home  ?  "  says  FRANK  WHITE- 
STOCK,  patting  the  child  on  the  head. 

"  Mother's  out  charing.  Sir,"  replied  the  girl ; 
"  but  please  to  walk  up,  Sir."  And  she  led  the  way 
up  one  and  two  pair  of  stairs  to  that  apartment  in 
the  house  which  is  called  the  second  floor  front ;  in 
which  was  the  abode  of  the  charwoman. 

There  were  two  young  persons  in  the  room,  of 
the  respective  ages  of  eight  and  five,  I  should  think. 
She  of  five  years  of  age  was  hemming  a  duster,  being 
perched  on  a  chair  at  the  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  The  elder,  of  eight,  politely  wiped  a  chair  with 
a  cloth  for  the  accommodation  of  the  good-natured 


192  TEAVELS   IN   LONDON. 

Curate,  and  came  and  stood  between  his  knessj  imme 
diately  alongside  of  his  umbrella,  which  also  reposed 
there,  and  which  she  by  no  means  equalled  in  height. 

"  These  children  attend  my  school  at  St.  Timo 
thy's,"  MR.  WHITESTOCK  said ;  "  and  BETSY  keeps  the 
house  whilst  her  mother  is  from  home." 

Anything  cleaner  or  neater  than  this  house  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive.  There  was  a  big  bed,  which 
must  have  been  the  resting-place  of  the  whole  of  this 
little  family.  There  were  three  or  four  religious 
prints  on  the  walls  ;  besides  two  framed  and  glazed, 
of  PRINCE  COBURG  and  the  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 
There  were  brass  candlesticks,  and  a  lamb  on  the 
chimney-piece,  and  a  cupboard  in  the  corner,  decora 
ted  with  near  half-a-dozen  of  plates,  yellow  bowls, 
and  crockery.  And  on  the  table  there  were  two  or 
three  bits  of  dry  bread,  and  a  jug  with  water,  with 
which  these  three  young  people  (it  being  then  nearly 
three  o'clock)  were  about  to  take  their  meal  called 
tea. 

That  little  BETSY  who  looks  so  small  is  nearly 
ten  years  old  :  and  has  been  a  mother  ever  since 
the  age  of  about  five.  I  mean  to  say,  that  her  own 
mother  having  to  go  out  upon  her  charing  operations, 
BETSY  assumes  command  of  the  room  during  her  pa 
rent's  absence :  has  nursed  her  sisters  from  babyhood 
up  to  the  present  time  :  keeps  order  over  them,  and 
the  house  clean  as  you  see  it :  and  goes  out  occasion- 


THE  CURATE'S  WALK.  193 

ally  and  transacts  the  family  purchases  of  bread, 
moist  sugar,  and  mother's  tea.  They  dine  upon 
bread,  tea  and  breakfast  upon  bread  when  they  have 
it,  or  go  to  bed  without  a  morsel.  Their  holiday  is 
Sunday,  which  they  spend  at  Church  and  Sunday- 
school.  The  younger  children  scarcely  ever  go  out 
save  on  that  day,  but  sit  sometimes  in  the  sun,  which 
comes  in  pretty  pleasantly :  sometimes  blue  in  the 
cold,  for  they  very  seldom  see  a  fire  except  to  heat 
irons  by,  when  mother  has  a  job  of  linen  to  get  up. 
Father  was  a  journeyman  book-binder,  who  died  four 
years  ago,  and  is  buried  among  thousands  and  thou 
sands  of  the  nameless  dead  who  lie  crowding  the 
black  churchyard  of  St.  Timothy's  parish. 

The  Curate  evidently  took  especial  pride  in  VIC 
TORIA,  the  youngest  of  these  three  children  of  the 
charwoman,  and  caused  BETSY  to  fetch  a  book  which 
lay  at  the  window,  and  bade  her  read.  It  was  a 
Missionary  Register  which  the  Curate  opened  hap 
hazard,  and  this  baby  began  to  read  out  in  an  exceed 
ingly  clear  and  resolute  voice  about — 

"  The  island  of  Raritongo  is  the  least  frequented 
of  all  the  Caribbean  Archipelago.  Wankyfungo  is 
at  four  leagues  S.  E.  by  E.,  and  the  peak  of  the  cra 
ter  of  Shuagnahua  is  distinctly  visible.  The  Iras 
cible  entered  Raritongo  Bay  on  the  evening  of  Thurs 
day  29th,  and  the  next  day  the  REV.  MR.  FLETHERS, 
MRS.  FLETHERS.  and  their  nine  children,  and  SHANG- 


194  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

POOKY,  the  native  converted  at  Cacabawgo,  landed 
and  took  up  their  residence  at  the  house  of  RATATA- 
TUA,  the  Principal  Chief,  who  entertained  us  with 
yams  and  a  pig,"  &c.,  &c.,  &c. 

"  R-aritongo',  Wankyfungo,  Archipelago."  I  pro 
test  this  little  woman  read  off  each  of  these  long 
words  with  an  ease  which  perfectly  astonished  me. 
Many  a  lieutenant  in  HER  MAJESTY'S  Heavies  would 
be  puzzled  with  words  of  half  the  length.  WHITE- 
STOCK,  by  way  of  reward  for  her  scholarship,  gave 
her  another  pat  on  the  head  ;  having  received  which 
present  with  a  curtsey,  she  went  and  put  the  book 
back  into  the  window,  and  clambering  back  into  the 
chair,  resumed  the  hemming  of  the  blue  duster. 

I  suppose  it  was  the  smallness  of  these  .people,  as 
well  as  their  singular,  neat,  and  tidy  behaviour,  which 
interested  me  so.  Here  were  three  creatures  not  so 
high  as  the  table,  with  all  the  labours,  duties,  and 
cares  of  life  upon  their  little  shoulders,  working  and 
doing  their  duty  like  the  biggest  of  my  readers ; 
regular,  laborious,  cheerful, — content  with  small  pit 
tances,  practising  a  hundred  virtues  of  thrift  and 
order. 

ELIZABETH,  at  ten  years  of  age,  might  walk  out 
of  this  house  and  take  the  command  of  a  small  es 
tablishment.  She  can  wash,  get  up  linen,  cook,  make 
purchases,  and  buy  bargains.  If  I  were  ten  years  old 
and  three  feet  in  height,  I  would  marry  her,  and  we 


THE  CURATE'S  WALK.  195 

would  go  and  live  in  a  cupboard,  and  share  the  little 
half-pint  pot  for  dinner.  'MELIA,  eight  years  of  age, 
though  inferior  in  accomplishments  to  her  sister,  is 
her  equal  in  size,  and  can  wash,  scrub,  hem,  go  errands, 
put  her  hand  to  the -dinner,  and  make  herself  gene 
rally  useful.  In  a  word,  she  is  fit  to  be  a  little  house 
maid,  and  to  make  everything  but  the  beds,  which 
she  cannot  as  yet  reach  up  to.  As  for  VICTORIA'S 
qualifications,  they  have  been  mentioned  before.  I 
wonder  whether  the  PRINCESS  ALICE  can  read  off 
"  Raritongo,"  &c.,  as  glibly  as  this  surprising  little 
animal. 

I  asked  the  Curate's  permission  to  make  these 
young  ladies  a  present,  and  accordingly  produced  the 
sum  of  sixpence  to  be  divided  amongst  the  three. 
"  What  will  you  do  with  it  ?"  I  said,  laying  down  the 
coin. 

They  answered,  all  three  at  once,  and  in  a  little 
chorus,  "  We'll  give  it  to  mother."  This  verdict 
caused  the  disbursement  of  another  sixpence,  and  it 
was  explained  to  them  that  the  sum  was  for  their 
own  private  pleasures,  and  each  was  called  upon  to 
declare  what  she  would  purchase. 

ELIZABETH  says,  "  I  would  like  twopenn'orth  of 
meat,  if  you  please,  Sir." 

'MELIA  :  "  Ha'porth  of  treacle,  three-farthings'- 
worth  of  milk,  and  the  same  of  fresh  bread." 

VICTORIA,  speaking  very  quick,  and  gasping  in  an 


196  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

agitated  manner.  "  Ha'pny — aha — orange,  and  ha'- 
pny — aha — apple,  and  ha'pny — aha — treacle,  and — 
and — "  here  her  imagination  failed  her.  She  did 
not  know  what  to  do  with  the  rest  of  the  money. 

At  this  'MELIA  actually  interposed,  "  Suppose  she 
and  VICTORIA  subscribed  a  farthing  apiece  out  of  their 
money,  so  that  BETSY  might  have  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  of  meat  ?"  She  added  that  her  sister  wanted 
it,  and  that  it  would  do  her  good.  Upon  my  word, 
she  made  the  proposals,  and  the  calculations,  in  an 
instant,  and  all  of  her  own  accord.  And  before  we 
left  them,  BETSY  had  put  on  the  queerest  little  black 
shawl  and  bonnet,  and  had  a  mug  and  a  basket  ready 
to  receive  the  purchases  in  question. 

Sedan  Court  has  a  particularly  friendly  look  to 
me  since  that  day.  Peace  be  with  you,  0  thrifty, 
kindly,  simple,  loving  little  maidens !  May  their 
voyage  in  life  prosper  !  Think  of  the  great  journey 
before  them,  and  the  little  cock-boat  manned  by  ba 
bies,  venturing  over  the  great  stormy  ocean.  SPEC. 

II. 

FOLLOWING  the  steps  of  little  BETSY  with  her  mug 
and  basket,  as  she  goes  pattering  down  the  street,  we 
watch  her  into  a  grocer's  shop,  where  a  startling  pla 
card  with  "  DOWN  AGAIN  !  "  written  on  it,  announces, 
that  the  Sugar  Market  is  still  in  a  depressed  condi- 


THE  CURATE'S  WALK.  197 

tion — and  where  she  no  doubt  negotiates  the  purchase 
of  a  certain  quantity  of  molasses.  A  little  further 
on,  in  Lawfeldt  Street,  is  MR.  FILCH'S  fine  silver 
smith's  shop,  where  a  man  may  stand  .for  a  half  hour, 
and  gaze  with  ravishment  at  the  beautiful  gilt  cups 
and  tankards,  the  stunning  waistcoat-chains,  the  little 
white  cushions  laid  out  with  delightfnl  diamond  pins, 
gold  horse-shoes  and  splinter-bars,  pearl  owls,  tur 
quoise  lizards  and  dragons,  enamelled  monkeys,  and 
all  sorts  of  agreeable  monsters  for  your  neckcloth.  If 
I  live  to  be  a  hundred,  or  if  the  girl  of  my  heart 
were  waiting  for  me  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  I  ne 
ver  could  pass  MR.  FILCH'S  shop  without  having  a 
couple  of  minutes'  good  stare  at  the  window.  I  like 
to  fancy  myself  dressed  up  in  some  of  the  jewellery. 
"  SPEC,  you  rogue,"  I  say,  "  suppose  you  were  to  get 
leave  to  wear  three  or  four  of  those  rings  on  your  fin 
gers  ;  to  stick  that  opal,  round  which  twists  a  bril 
liant  serpent,  with  a  ruby  head  into  your  blue  satin 
neckcloth  ;  and  to  sport  that  gold  jack-chain  on  your 
waistcoat.  You  might  walk  in  the  Park  with  that 
black  whalebone  prize-riding-whip,  which  has  a  head 
of  the  size  of  a  snuff-box,  surmounted  with  a  silver 
jockey  on  a  silver  race-horse ;  and  what  a  sensation 
you  would  create,  if  you  took  that  large  ram's  horn 
with  the  Cairngorm  top  out  of  your  pocket,  and  offer 
ed  a  pinch  of  rappee  to  the  company  round !  "  A  lit 
tle  attorney's  clerk  is  staring  in  at  the  window,  in 


198  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

whose  mind  very  similar  ideas  are  passing.  What 
would  he  not  give  to  wear  that  gold  pin  next  Sunday 
in  his  blue  hunting  neckcloth  ?  The  ball  of  it  is  al 
most  as  big  as  those  which  are  painted  over  the  side 
door  of  MR.  FILCH'S  shop,  which  is  down  that  pas 
sage  which  leads  into  Trotter's  Court. 

I  have  dined  at  a  house  where  the  silver  dishes 
and  covers  came  from  FILCH'S,  let  out  to  their  owner 
by  MR.  FILCH  for  the  day,  and  in  charge  of  the  grave 
looking  man  whom  I  mistook  for  the  butler.  Butlers 
and  ladies'  maids  innumerable  have  audiences  of  MR. 
FILCH  in  his  back  parlour.  There  are  suits  of  jewels 
which  he  and  his  shop  have  known  for  a  half  century 
past,  so  often  have  they  been  pawned  to  him.  When 
we  read  in  the  Court  Journal  of  LADY  FITZBALL'S 
head-dress  of  lappets  and  superb  diamonds,  it  is  be 
cause  the  jewels  get  a  day  rule  from  FILCH'S,  and 
come  back  to  his  iron  box  as  soon  as  the  drawing- 
room  is  over.  These  jewels  become  historical  among 
pawnbrokers.  It  was  here  that  LADY  PRIGSBY 
brought  her  diamonds  one  evening  of  last  year,  and 
desired  hurriedly  to  raise  two  thousand  pounds  upon 
them,  when  FILCH  respectfully  pointed  out  to  her 
Ladyship,  that  she  had  pawned  the  stones  already  to 
his  comrade,  MR.  TUBAL,  of  Charing  Cross.  ..And, 
taking  his  hat,  and  putting  the  case  under  his  arm, 
he  went  with  her  Ladyship  to  the  hack-cab  in  which 
she  had  driven  to  Lawfeldt  Street,  entered  the  vehi- 


199 

cle  with  her,  and  they  drove  in  silence  to  the  back  en 
trance  of  her  mansion  in  Monmouth  Square,  where 
MR.  TUBAL'S  young  man  was  still  seated  in  the  hall, 
waiting  until  her  Ladyship  should  be  undressed. 

We  walked  round  the  splendid  shining  shop  and 
down  the  passage,  which  would  be  dark  but  that  the 
gas-lit  door  is  always  swinging  to  and  fro,  as  the  peo 
ple  who  come  to  pawn  go  in  and  out.  You  may  be 
sure  there  is  a  gin -shop  handy  to  all  pawnbrokers. 

A  lean  man  in  a  dingy  dress  is  walking  lazily  up 
and  down  the  flags  of  Trotter's  Court.  His  ragged 
trowsers  trail  in  the  slimy  mud  there.  The  doors  of 
the  pawnbroker's,  and  of  the  gin-shop  on  the  other 
side,  are  banging  to  and  fro  :  a  little  girl  comes  out 
of  the  former,  with  a  tattered  old  handkerchief,  and 
goes  up  and  gives  something  to  the  dingy  man.  It  is 
ninepence,  just  raised  on  his  waistcoat.  The  man  bids 
the  child  to  "  cut  away  home,"  and  when  she  is  clear 
out  of  the  court,  he  looks  at  us  with  a  lurking  scowl 
and  walks  into  the  gin-shop  doors,  which  swing  always 
opposite  the  pawnbroker's  shop. 

Why  should  he  have  sent  the  waistcoat  wrapped 
in  that  ragged  old  cloth  ?  Why  should  he  have  sent 
the  child  into  the  pawnbroker's  box,  and  not  have 
gone  himself?  He  did  not  choose  to  let  her  see  him 
go  into  the  gin-shop — why  drive  her  in  at  the  oppo 
site  door  ?  The  child  knows  well  enough  whither  he 
is  gone.  She  might  as  well  have  carried  an  old 


200  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

waistcoat  in  her  hand  through  the  street  as  a  ragged 
napkin.  A  sort  of  vanity,  you  see,  drapes  itself  in 
that  dirty  rag ;  or  is  it  a  kind  of  debauched  shame, 
which  does  not  like  to  go  naked  ?  The  fancy  can  fol 
low  the  poor  girl  up  the  black  alley,  up  the  black 
stairs,  into  the  bare  room,  where  mother  and  chil 
dren  are  starving,  while  the  lazy  ragamuffin,  the  fam 
ily  bully,  is  gone  into  the  gin-shop  to  "  try  our  cele 
brated  Cream  of  the  Valley,"  as  the  bill  in  red  letters 
bids  him. 

"  I  waited  in  this  court  the  other  day,"  WHITE- 
STOCK  said,  "just  like  that  man,  while  a  friend  of 
mine  went  in  to  take  her  husband's  tools  out  of  pawn 
— an  honest  man  —  a  journeyman  shoemaker,  who 
lives  hard  by."  And  we  went  to  call  on  the  journey 
man  shoemaker — Handle's  Buildings — two-pair  back 
— over  a  blacking  manufactory.  The  blacking  was 
made  by  one  manufactor,  who  stood  before  a  tub  stir 
ring  up  his  produce,  a  good  deal  of  which — and  no 
thing  else — was  on  the  floor.  We  passed  through  this 
emporium,  which  abutted  on  a  dank,  steaming  little 
court,  and  up  the  narrow  stair  to  the  two-pair  back. 

The  shoemaker  was  at  work  with  his  recovered 
tools,  and  his  wife  was  making  woman's  shoes  (an  in 
ferior  branch  of  the  business)  by  him.  A  shrivelled 
child  was  lying  on  the  bed  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 
There  was  no  bedstead,  and  indeed  scarcely  any  fur 
niture,  save  the  little  table  on  which  lay  his  tools  and 


THE  CURATE'S  WALK.  201 

shoes — a  fair-haired,  lank,  handsome  young  man  with 
a  wife  who  may  have  been  pretty  once,  in  better 
times,  and  before  starvation  pulled  her  down.  She 
had  but  one  thin  gown ;  it  clung  to  a  frightfully  ema 
ciated  little  body. 

Their  story  was  the  old  one.  The  man  had  been 
in  good  work,  and  had  the  fever.  The  clothes  had 
been  pawned,  the  furniture  and  bedstead  had  been 
sold,  and  they  slept  on  the  mattress ;  the  mattress 
went,  and  they  slept  on  the  floor ;  the  tools  went,  and 
the  end  of  all  things  seemed  at  hand,  when  the  gra 
cious  apparition  of  the  Curate,  with  his  umbrella, 
came  and  cheered  those  stricken-down  poor  folks. 

The  journeyman  shoemaker  must  have  been  as 
tonished  at  such  a  sight.  He  is  not,  or  was  not  a 
church-goer.  He  is  a  man  of  "  advanced  "  opinions  ; 
believing  that  priests  are  hypocrites,  and  that  clergy 
men  in  general  drive  about  in  coaches-and-four,  and 
eat  a  tithe-pig  a  day.  This  proud  priest  got  MR. 
CRISPIN  a  bed  to  lie  upon,  and  some  soup  to  eat ;  and 
(being  the  treasurer  of  certain  good  folks  of  his  par 
ish,  whose  charities  he  administers)  as  soon  as  the 
man  was  strong  enough  to  work,  the  curate  lent  him 
money  wherewith  to  redeem  his  tools,  and  which  our 
friend  is  paying  back  by  instalments  at  this  day.  And 
any  man  who  has  seen  these  two  honest  men  talking 
together,  would  have  said  the  shoemaker  was  the 
haughtiest  of  the  two. 

9* 


202  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

We  paid  one  more  morning  visit.  This  was  with  an 
order  for  work  to  a  tailor  of  reduced  circumstances 
and  enlarged  family.  He  had  been  a  master,  and 
was  now  forced  to  take  work  by  the  job.  He  who 
had  commanded  many  men,  was  now  fallen  down  to 
the  ranks  again.  His  wife  told  us  all  about  his  mis 
fortunes.  She  is  evidently  very  proud  of  them.  "  He 
failed  for  seven  thousand  pounds,"  the  poor  woman 
said,  three  or  four  times  during  the  course  of  our  vis 
it.  It  gave  her  husband  a  sort  of  dignity  to  have 
been  trusted  for  so  much  money. 

The  Curate  must  have  heard  that  story  many 
times,  to  which  he  now  listened  with  great  patience 
in  the  tailor's  house — a  large,  clean,  dreary,  faint- 
looking  room,  smelling  of  poverty.  Two  little  stunt 
ed,  yellow-headed  children,  with  lean  pale  faces  and 
large  protruding  eyes,  were  at  the  window  staring 
with  all  their  might  at  Guy  Fawkes,  who  was  passing 
in  the  street,  and  making  a  great  clattering  and  shout 
ing  outside,  while  the  luckless  tailor's  wife  was  prat 
ing  within  about  her  husband's  bygone  riches.  I  shall 
not  in  a  hurry  forget  the  picture.  The  empty  room 
in  a  dreary  back-ground ;  the  tailor's  wife  in  brown, 
stalking  up  and  down  the  planks,  talking  endlessly ; 
the  solemn  children  staring  out  of  the  window  as  the 
sunshine  fell  on  their  faces,  and  honest  WHITESTOCK 
seated,  listening,  with  the  tails  of  his  coat  through 
the  chair. 


THE  CURATE'S  WALK.  203 

His  business  over  with  the  tailor,  we  start  again. 
FRANK  WHITESTOCK  trips  through  alley  after  alley, 
never  getting  any  mud  on  his  boots,  somehow,  and  his 
white  neckcloth  making  a  wonderful  shine  in  those 
shady  places.  He  has  all  sorts  of  acquaintance,  chiefly 
amongst  the  extreme  youth,  assembled  at  the  doors  or 
about  the  gutters.  There  was  one  small  person  occu 
pied  in  emptying  one  of  these  rivulets  with  an  oyster 
shell,  for  the  purpose,  apparently,  of  making  an  arti 
ficial  lake  in  a  hole  hard  by,  whose  solitary  gravity 
and  business  struck  me  much,  while  the  Curate  was 
very  deep  in  conversation  with  a  small-coalman.  A 
half-dozen  of  her  comrades  were  congregated  round  a 
scraper  and  on  a  grating  hard  by,  playing  with  a  man 
gy  little  puppy,  the  property  of  the  Curate's  friend. 

I  know  it  is  wrong  to  give  large  sums  of  money 
away  promiscuously,  but  I  could  not  help  dropping  a 
penny  into  the  child's  oyster-shell,  as  she  came  for 
ward  holding  it  before  her  like  a  tray.  At  first  her 
expression  was  one  rather  of  wonder  than  of  pleasure  at 
this  influx  of  capital,  and  were  certainly  quite  worth  the 
small  charge  of  one  penny,  at  which  it  was  purchased. 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  seem  to  know  what 
steps  to  take  ;  but,  having  communed  in  her  own  mind, 
she  presently  resolved  to  turn  them  towards  a  neigh 
bouring  apple-stall,  in  the  direction  of  which  she  went 
without  a  single  word  of  compliment  passing  between 
us.  Now,  the  children  round  the  scraper  were  wit- 


204  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

nesses  to  the  transaction.  "  He's  give  her  a  penny," 
one  remarked  to  another,  with  hopes  miserably  disap 
pointed  that  they  might  come  in  for  a  similar  present. 
She  walked  on  to  the  apple  stall  meanwhile,  hold 
ing  her  penny  behind  her.  And  what  did  the  other 
little  ones  do  ?  They  put  down  the  puppy  as  if  it 
had  been  so  much  dross.  And  one  after  another 
they  followed  the  penny-piece  to  the  apple-stall. 

SPEC. 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY. 
I. 

OUT  of  a  mere  love  of  variety  and  contrast,  I 
think  we  cannot  do  better,  after  leaving  the  wretched 
WHITESTOCK  among  his  starving  parishioners,  than 
transport  ourselves  to  the  City,  where  we  are  invited 
to  dine  with  the  Worshipful  Company  of  Bellows- 
Menders,  at  their  splendid  Hall  in  Marrow-pudding 
Lane. 

Next  to  eating  good  dinners,  a  healthy  man  with 
a  benevolent  turn  of  mind  must  like,  I  think,  to  read 
about  them.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  had  by  heart  the 
Barmecides  feast  in  the  Arabian  Nights ;  and  the 
culinary  passages  in  SCOTT'S  novels  (in  which  works 
there  is  a  deal  of  good  eating)  always  were  my 
favourites.  The  Homeric  poems  are  full,  as  every 
body  knows,  of  roast  and  boiled  :  and  every  year  I 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  205 


look  forward  with  pleasure  to  the  newspapers  of  the 
10th  of  November,  for 'the  menu  of  the  Lord  Mayor's 
feast,  which  is  sure  to  appear  in  those  journals. 
What  student  of  history  is  there  who  does  not  re 
member  the  City  dinner  given  to  the  Allied  Sove 
reigns  in  1814  ?  It  is  good  even  now,  and  to  read  it 
ought  to  make  a  man  hungry,  had  he  had  five  meals 
that  day.  In  a  word,  I  had  long,  long  yearned  in  my 
secret  heart  to  be  present  at  a  City  festival.  The 
last  year's  papers  had  a  bill  of  fare  commencing  with 
"  four  hundred  tureens  of  turtle,  each  containing  five 
pints;"  and  concluding  with  the  pineapples  and  ices 
of  the  dessert.  "  Fancy  two  thousand  pints  of  turtle, 
my  love,"  I  have  often  said  to  MRS.  SPEC,  "  in  a 
vast  silver  tank,  smoking  fragrantly,  with  lovely  green 
islands  of  calipash  and  calipee  floating  about — why, 
my  dear,  if  it  had  been  invented  in  the  time  of 
VITELLIUS  he  would  have  bathed  in  it !  " 

"  He  would  have  been  a  nasty  wretch,"  MRS. 
SPEC  said,  who  thinks  that  cold  mutton  is  the  most 
wholesome  food  of  man.  However,  when  she  heard 
what  great  company  was  to  be  present  at  the  dinner, 
the  Ministers  of  State,  the  Foreign  Ambassadors, 
some  of  the  bench  of  Bishops,  no  doubt  the  Judges, 
and  a  great  portion  of  the  Nobility,  she  was  pleased 
at  the  card  which  was  sent  to  her  husband,  and  made 
a  neat  tie  to  my  white  neckcloth  before  I  set  off  on 
the  festive  journey.  She  warned  me  to  be  very 


206  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

cautious,  and  obstinately  refused  to  allow  me  the 
CHUBB  door-key. 

The  very  card  of  invitation  is  a  curiosity.  It  is 
almost  as  big  as  a  tea-tray.  It  gives  one  ideas  of  a 
vast,  enormous  hospitality.  GOG  and  MAGOG  in 
livery  might  leave  it  at  your  door.  If  a  man  is  to 
eat  up  to  that  card,  Heaven  help  us,  I  thought ;  the 
Doctor  must  be  called  in.  Indeed,  it  was  a  Doctor 
who  procured  me  the  placard  of  invitation.  Like  all 
medical  men  who  have  published  a  book  upon  diet, 
PILLKINGTON  is  a  great  gourmand,  and  he  made  a  great 
favour  of  procuring  the  ticket  for  me  from  his  brother 
of  the  Stock  Exchange,  who  is  a  Citizen  and  a  Bel 
lows-Mender  in  his  corporate  capacity. 

We  drove  in  PILLKINGTON'S  Brougham  to  the  place 
of  mangezvous,  through  the  streets  of  the  town,  in 
the  broad  daylight,  dressed  out  in  our  white  waist 
coats  and  ties  ;  making  a  sensation  upon  all  beholders 
by  the  premature  splendour  of  our  appearance. 
There  is  something  grand  in  that  hospitality  of  the 
citizens,  who  not  only  give  you  more  to  eat  than 
other  people,  but  who  begin  earlier  than  anybody 
else.  MAJOR  BANGLES,  CAPTAIN  CANTERBURY,  and  a 
host  of  the  fashionables  of  my  acquaintance,  were 
taking  their  morning's  ride  in  the  Park  as  we  drove 
through.  You  should  have  seen  how  they  stared  at 
us !  It  gave  me  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  remark 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  207 


mentally,  "Look   on,  gents,  we   too  are  sometimes 
invited  to  the  tables  of  the  great." 

We  fell  in  with  numbers  of  carriages  as  we  were 
approaching  citywards,  in  which  reclined  gentle 
men  with  white  neckcloths — grand  equipages  of 
foreign  ambassadors,  whose  uniforms,  and  stars,  and 
gold-lace  glistened  within  the  carriages,  while  their 
servants  with  coloured  cockades  looked  splendid  with 
out,  careered  by  the  Doctor's  Brougham-horse,  which 
was  a  little  fatigued  with  his  professional  journeys  in 
the  morning.  GENERAL  SIR  ROGER  BLUFF,  K.C.B., 
and  COLONEL  TUCKER,  were  stepping  into  a  cab  at 
the  United  Service  Club  as  we  passed  it.  The  vete 
rans  blazed  in  scarlet  and  gold-lace.  It  seemed 
strange  that  men  so  famous,  if  they  did  not  mount 
their  chargers  to  go  to  dinner,  should  ride  in  any 
vehicle  under  a  coach-and-six  ;  and  instead  of  having 
a  triumphal  car  to  conduct  them  to  the  city,  should 
go  thither  in  a  rickety  cab,  driven  by  a  ragged  cha 
rioteer  smoking  a  doodheen.  In  Cornhill  we  fell 
into  a  line,  and  formed  a  complete  regiment  of  the 
aristocracy.  Crowds  were  gathered  round  the  steps 
of  the  old  Hall  in  Marrow-pudding  Lane,  and  wel 
comed  us  nobility  and  gentry  as  we  stepped  out  of 
our  equipages  at  the  door.  The  policemen  could 
hardly  restrain  the  ardour  of  these  low  fellows,  and 
their  sarcastic  cheers  were  sometimes  very  unpleasant. 
There  was  one  rascal  who  made  an  observation  about 


208  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

the  size  of  my  white  waistcoat,  for  which  I  should 
have  liked  to  sacrifice  him  on  the  spot ;  but  PILL- 
KINGTON  hurried  me,  as  the  policemen  did  our  little 
Brougham,  to  give  place  to  a  prodigious  fine  equipage 
which  followed,  with  immense  grey  horses,  immense 
footmen  in  powder,  and  driven  by  a  grave  coachman 
in  an  episcopal  wig. 

A  veteran  officer  in  scarlet,  with  silver  epaulets, 
and  a  profuse  quantity  of  bullion  and  silver  lace, 
descended  from  this  carriage  between  the  two  foot 
men,  and  nearly  upset  by  his  curling  sabre,  which  had 
twisted  itself  between  his  legs,  which  were  cased  in 
duck  trowsers  very  tight,  except  about  the  knees 
(where  they  bagged  quite  freely),  and  with  rich  long 
white  straps.  I  thought  he  must  be  a  great  man  by 
the  oddness  of  his  uniform. 

"  Who  is  the  general  ? "  says  I,  as  the  old  war 
rior,  disentangling  himself  from  his  scimetar,  entered 
the  outer  hall.  Is  it  the  MARQUESS  OF  ANGLESEA,  or 
the  RAJAH  OF  SARAWAK?  " 

I  spoke  in  utter  ignorance,  as  it  appeared.  "  That ! 
Pooh,"  says  PILLKTNGTON  ;  "  that  is  MR.  CHAMPIG 
NON,  M.P.,of  "Whitehall  Gardens  and  Fungus  Abbey, 
Citizen  and  Bellows-Mender.  His  uniform  is  that 
of  a  Colonel  of  the  Diddlesex  Militia."  There  was 
no  end  to  similar  mistakes  on  that  day.  A  venerable 
man  with  a  blue  and  gold  uniform,  and  a  large  crim 
son  sword-belt  and  brass-scabbarded  sabre,  passed 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  209 

presently,  whom  I  mistook  for  a  foreign  ambassador 
at  the  least ;  whereas  I  found  out  that  he  was  only  a 
Billingsgate  Commissioner — and  a  little  fellow  in  a 
blue  livery,  which  fitted  him  so  badly  that  I  thought 
he  must  be  one  of  the  hired  waiters  of  the  Company, 
who  had  been  put  into  a  coat  that  didn't  belong  to 
him,  turned  out  to  be  a  real  right  honourable  gent, 
who  had  been  a  minister  once. 

I  was  conducted  up-stairs  by  my  friend  to  the 
gorgeous  drawing-room,  where  the  company  assem 
bled,  and  where  there  was  a  picture  of  GEORGE  IV. 
I  cannot  make  out  what  public  companies  can  want 
with  a  picture  of  GEORGE  IV.  A  fellow,  with  a  gold 
chain,  and  in  a  black  suit,  such  as  the  lamented  MR. 
COOPER  wears  preparatory  to  execution  in  the  last  act 
of  George  Barnwell,  bawled  out  our  names  as  we 
entered  the  apartment.  "  If  my  ELIZA  could  hear 
that  gentleman,"  thought  I,  "  roaring  out  the  name 
of  '  MR.  SPEC  ! '  in  the  presence  of  at  least  two  hun 
dred  Earls,  Prelates,  Judges,  and  distinguished  cha 
racters  !  "  It  made  little  impression  upon  them,  how 
ever  ;  and  I  slunk  into  the  embrasure  of  a  window, 
and  watched  the  company. 

Every  man  who  came  into  the  room  was,  of  course, 
ushered  in  with  a  roar.  "  His  Excellency  the  Minis 
ter  of  Topinambo  !  "  the  usher  yelled  ;  and  the  Min 
ister  appeared,  bowing,  and  in  tights.  "  MR.  HOG 
GIN  !  The  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  THE  EARL  OF  BARE- 


210  TRAVELS  IN  LONDON. 

ACRES  !  MR.  SNOG  !  MR.  BRADDLE  !  MR.  ALDERMAN 
MOODLE  !  MR.  JUSTICE  BUNKER  !  LIEUT.-G-EN.  SIR 
KOGER  BLUFF  !  COLONEL  TUCKER  !  MR.  TIMS  !  "  with 
the  same  emphasis  and  mark  of  admiration  for  us  all, 
as  it  were.  The  Warden  of  the  Bellows-Menders 
came  forward  and  made  a  profusion  of  bows  to  the 
"Various  distinguished  guests  as  they  arrived.  He. 
too.  was  in  a  court-dress,  with  a  sword  and  bag.  His 
lady  must  like  so  to  behold  him  turning  out  in  arms 
and  ruffles,  shaking  hands  with  Ministers,  and  bowing 
over  his  wine-glass  to  their  Excellencies  the  Foreign 
Ambassadors. 

To  be  in  a  room  with  these  great  people  gave  me 
a  thousand  sensations  of  joy.  Once,  I  am  positive, 
the  Secretary  of  the  Tape  and  Sealing-Wax  Office 
looked  at  me,  and  turning  round  to  a  noble  Lord  in 
a  red  ribbon,  evidently  asked,  "  Who  is  that  ?  "  Oh, 
ELIZA,  ELIZA  !  How  I  wished  you  had  been  there  ! — 
or  if  not  there,  in  the  ladies'  gallery  in  the  dining- 
hall,  when  the  music  began,  and  MR.  SHADRACH,  MR. 
MESHACH,  and  little  JACK  OLDBOY  (whom  I  recollect 
in  the  part  of  Count  Almaviva  any  time  these  forty 
years),  sang  -Non  nobis  Domine. 

But  I  am  advancing  matters  prematurely.  We 
are  not  in  the  grand  dining-hall  as  yet.  The  crowd 
grows  thicker  and  thicker,  so  that  you  can't  see  peo 
ple  bow  as  they  enter  any  more.  The  usher  in  the 
gold  chain  roars  out  name  ofter  name :  more  ambas- 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  211 

sadors,  more  generals,  more  citizens,  capitalists,  bank 
ers — among  them  MR.  ROWDY,  my  banker,  from  whom 
I  shrank  guiltily  from  private  financial  reasons — and, 
last  and  greatest  of  all,  "  THE  EIGHT  HONOURABLE 
THE  LORD  MAYOR  !  " 

That  was  a  shock,  such  as  I  felt  on  landing  at 
Calais  for  the  first  time ;  on  first  seeing  an  Eastern 
bazaar ;  on  first  catching  a  sight  of  MRS.  SPEC  ;  a 
new  sensation,  in  a  word.  Till  death,  I  shall  remem 
ber  that  surprise.  I  saw  over  the  heads  of  the 
crowd,  first  a  great  sword  borne  up  in  the  air :  then 
a  man  in  a  fur  cap  of  the  shape  of  a  flower-pot ;  then 
I  heard  the  voice  shouting  the  august  name — the 
crowd  separated.  A  handsome  man  with  a  chain 
and  gown  stood  before  me.  It  was  he.  He  ?  what 
do  I  say  ?  It  was  his  Lordship.  I  cared  for  nothing 
till  dinner-time  after  that.  SPEC. 

II. 

THE  glorious  company  of  banqueteers  were  now 
pretty  well  all  assembled  ;  and  I,  for  my  part,  at 
tracted  by  an  irresistible  fascination,  pushed  nearer 
and  nearer  my  LORD  MAYOR,  and  surveyed  him,  as 
the  Generals,  Lords,  Ambassadors,  Judges,  and  other 
bigwigs  rallied  round  him  as  their  centre,  and,  being 
introduced  to  his  Lordship  and  each  other,  made 
themselves  the  most  solemn  and  graceful  bows ;  as 


212  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

if  it  had  been  the  object  of  that  General's  life  to 
meet  that  Judge  ;  and  as  if  that  Secretary  of  the 
Tape  and  Sealing-wax  Office,  having  achieved  at 
length  a  presentation  to  the  LORD  MAYOR,  had 
gained  the  end  of  his  existence,  and  might  go  home, 
singing  a  Nunc  Dimittis.  DON  GERONIMO  DE  MUL 
LIGAN  Y  GUAYABA,  Minister  of  the  Republic  of  Topi- 
nambo,  (and  originally  descended  from  an  illustrious 
Irish  ancestor,  who  hewed  out  with  his  pickaxe  in  the 
Topinambo  mines  the  steps  by  which  his  family  have 
ascended  to  their  present  eminence),  holding  his 
cocked  hat  with  the  yellow  cockade  close  over  his 
embroidered  coat-tails,  conversed  with  ALDERMAN 
CODSHEAD,  that  celebrated  statesman,  who  was  also 
in  tights,  with  a  sword  and  bag. 

Of  all  the  articles  of  the  splendid  court-dress  of 
our  aristocracy,  I  think  it  is  those  little  bags  which  I 
admire  most.  The  dear  crisp  curly  little  black  dar 
lings  !  They  give  a  gentleman's  back  an  indescriba 
ble  grace  and  air  of  chivalry.  They  are  at  once 
manly,  elegant,  and  useful  (being  made  of  sticking- 
plaster,  which  can  be  applied  afterwards  to  heal 
many  a  wound  of  domestic  life).  They  are  some 
thing  extra  appended  to  men,  to  enable  them  to  ap 
pear  in  the  presence  of  royalty.  How  vastly  the 
idea  of  a  Court  increases  in  solemnity  and  grandeur 
when  you  think  that  a  man  cannot  enter  it  without  a 
tail! 


A   DINNER    IN   THE    CITY.  213 

These   thoughts  passed  through  my  mind,  and 

pleasingly  diverted  it  from  all  sensations  of  hunger, 

while  many  friends  around  me  were  pulling  out  their 

watches,  looking  towards  the  great  dining-room  doors, 

i,  rattling  at  the  lock  (the  door  gasped  open  once  or 

twice,  and  the  nose  of  a  functionary  on  the  other 

side  peeped  in  among  us  and  entreated  peace),  and 

vowing  it  was  scandalous,  monstrous,  shameful.     If 

!<  you  ask  an  assembly  of  Englishmen  to  a  feast,  and 

i  accident  or  the  cook  delays  it,  they  show  their  grati- 

;  tude  in  this  way.     Before   the   supper-rooms  were 

thrown  open  at  my  friend   MRS.   PERKINS'S  ball,  I 

I  recollect    LIVERSAGE    at    the   door,   swearing    and 

t  growling   as   if  he   had   met  with   an   injury.      So 

j  I  thought  the  Bellows-Menders'  guests  seemed  heav- 

|  ing  into  mutiny,  when  the  great  doors  burst  open  in  a 

flood   of  light,   and  we  rushed,  a   black   streaming 

crowd,  into  the  gorgeous  hall  of  banquet. 

Every  man  sprang  for  his  place  with  breathless 
rapidity.  We  knew  where  those  places  were  before 
hand;  for  a  cunning  map  had  been  put  into  the  hands 
of  each  of  us  by  an  officer  of  the  Company,  where 
every  plate  of  this  grand  festival  was  numbered,  and 
each  gentleman's  place  was  ticketed  off.  My  wife 
keeps  my  card  still  in  her  album  ;  and  my  dear  eld 
est  boy  (who  has  a  fine  genius  and  appetite)  will  gaze 
on  it  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time,  whereas  he  passes 


21 4  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

by  the  copies  of  verses  and  the  flower-pieces  with  an 
entire  indifference. 

The  vast  hall  flames  with  gas,  and  is  emblazoned 
all  over  with  the  arms  of  by-gone  Bellows-Menders. 
August  portraits  decorate  the  walls.  THE  DUKE  OF 
KENT  in  scarlet,  with  a  crooked  sabre,  stared  me 
firmly  in  the  face  during  the  whole  entertainment. 
THE  DUKE  OF  CUMBERLAND,  in  a  hussar  uniform,  was 
at  my  back,  and  I  knew  was  looking  down  into  my 
plate.  The  eyes  of  those  gaunt  portraits  follow  you 
everywhere.  The  Prince  Regent  has  been  mentioned 
before.  He  has  his  place  of  honour  over  the  Great 
Bellows-Mender's  chair,  and  surveys  the  high  table, 
glittering  with  plate,  epergnes,  candles,  hock-glasses, 
moulds  of  blanc-mange  stuck  over  with  flowers,  gold 
statues  holding  up  baskets  of  barley-sugar,  and  a 
thousand  objects  of  art.  Piles  of  immense  gold  cans 
and  salvers  rose  up  in  buffets  behind  this  high  table ; 
towards  which  presently,  and  in  a  grand  procession — 
the  band  in  the  gallery  over-head  blowing  out  the 
Bellows-Menders'  march — a  score  of  City  tradesmen 
and  their  famous  guests  walked  solemnly  between 
our  rows  of  tables. 

Grace  was  said,  not  by  the  professional  devotees 
who  sang  "  Non  Nobis  "  at  the  end  of  the  meal,  but 
by  a  chaplain  somewhere  in  the  room,  and  the  turtle 
began.  Armies  of  waiters  came  rushing  in  with  tu 
reens  of  this  broth  of  the  City. 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  215 

There  was  a  gentleman  near  us — a  very  lean  ol$ 
Bellows-Mender,  indeed,  who  had  three  platefuls. 
His  old  hands  trembled,  and  his  plate  quivered  with 
excitement,  as  he  asked  again  and  again.  That  old 
man  is  not  destined  to  eat  much  more  of  the  green 
fat  of  this  life.  As  he  took  it,  he  shook  all  over  like 
the  jelly  in  the  dish  opposite  to  him.  He  gasped  out 
a  quick  laugh  once  or  twice  to  his  neighbour,  when 
his  two  or  three  old  tusks  showed,  still  standing  up 
in  those  jaws  which  had  swallowed  such  a  deal  of  cal- 
lipash.  He  winked  at  the  waiters,  knowing  them 
from  former  banquets. 

This  banquet,  which  I  am  describing  at  Christ 
mas,  took  place  at  the  end  of  May.  At  that  time 
the  vegetables  called  peas  were  exceedingly  scarce, 
and  cost  six-and-twenty  shillings  a  quart. 

"  There  are  two  hundred  quarts  of  peas,"  said  the 
old  fellow,  winking  with  blood-shot  eyes,  and  a  laugh 
that  was  perfectly  frightful.  They  were  consumed 
with  the  fragrant  ducks,  by  those  who  were  inclined ; 
or  with  the  VENISON,  which  now  came  in. 

That  was  a  great  sight.  On  a  centre  table  in  the 
hall,  on  which  already  stood  a  cold  Baron  of  Beef — 
a  grotesque  piece  of  meat — a  dish  as  big  as  a  dish  in 
a  pantomime,  with  a  little  Standard  of  England  stuck 
into  the  top  of  it,  as  if  it  was  round  this  we  were  to 
rally — on  this  centre  table,  six  men  placed  as  many 
huge  dishes  under  cover  ;  and  at  a  given  signal  the 


216  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

master  cook  and  five  assistants  in  white  caps  and 
jackets  marched  rapidly  up  to  the  dish  covers,  which 
being  withdrawn,  discovered  to  our  sight  six  haunches, 
on  which  the  six  carvers,  taking  out  six  sharp  knives 
from  their  girdles,  began  operating. 

It  was,  I  say,  like  something  out  of  a  Gothic  ro 
mance,  or  a  grotesque  fairy  pantomime.  Feudal  bar 
ons  must  have  dined  so  five  hundred  years  ago.  One 
of  those  knives  may  have  been  the  identical  blade 
which  WALWORTH  plunged  in  JACK  CADE'S  ribs,  and 
which  was  afterwards  caught  up  into  the  City  Arms, 
where  it  blazes.  (Not  that  any  man  can  seriously 
believe  that  JACK  CADE  was  hurt  by  the  dig  of  the 
jolly  old  Mayor  in  the  red  gown  and  chain,  any  more 
than  that  Pantaloon  is  singed  by  the  great  poker, 
which  is  always  forthcoming  at  the  present  season.) 
Here  we  were  practising  the  noble  custom  of  the 
good  old  times,  imitating  our  glorious  forefathers, 
rallying  round  our  old  institutions,  like  true  Britons. 
These  very  flagons  and  platters  were  in  the  room  be 
fore  us,  ten  times  as  big  as  any  we  use  or  want  now- 
a-days.  They  served  us  a  grace-cup  as  large  as  a 
plate-basket,  and  at  the  end  they  passed  us  a  rose- 
water  dish,  into  which  PEPYS  might  have  dipped  his 
napkin.  PEPYS? — what  do  I  say?  RICHARD  III., 
Coeur-de-Lion,  GUY  OF  WARWICK,  GOG  and  MAGOG. 
I  don't  know  how  antique  the  articles  are. 

Conversation,  rapid  and  befitting  the  place  and 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  217 

occasion,  went  on  all  round.  "  Waiter,  where's  the 
turtle-fins  ?  " — Gobble,  gobble.  "  Hice  Punch  or  My 
deary,  Sir  ? "  "  Smelts  or  salmon,  JOWLER,  My 
boy?"  "Always  take  cold  beef  after  turtle."— 
Hobble,  gobble.  "  These  year  peas  have  no  taste." 
Hobble,  gobbleobble.  "  JONES,  a  glass  of  'Ock  with 
you?  SMITH,  jine  us?  Waiter,  three  'Ocks.  S. ! 
mind  your  manners.  There's  MRS.  S.  a-looking  at 
you  from  the  gallery." — Hobble-obbl-gobble-gob-gob- 
gob.  A  steam  of  meats,  a  flare  of  candles,  a  rushing 
to  and  fro  of  waiters,  a  ceaseless  clinking  of  glass  and 
steel,  a  dizzy  mist  of  gluttony,  out  of  which  I  see  my 
old  friend  of  the  turtle  soup  making  terrific  play 
among'the  peas,  his  knife  darting  down  his  throat. 
**#*###* 

It  is  all  over.  We  can  eat  no  more.  We  are 
full  of  BACCHUS  and  fat  venison.  We  lay  down  our 
weapons  and  rest.  "  Why,  in  the  name  of  goodness," 
says  I,  turning  round  to  PILLKINGTON,  who  had  be 
haved  at  dinner  like  a  doctor  ;  "  Why — •' 

But  a  great  rap,  tap,  tap  proclaimed  grace,  after 
which  the  professional  gentlemen  sang  out  "  Non 
Nobisf  and  then  the  dessert  and  the  speeches  began; 
about  which  we  shall  speak  in  the  third  course  of  our 
entertainment. 

10 


218  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 


III. 

ON  the  hammer  having  ceased  its  tapping,  MR. 
CHISEL,  the  immortal  toast-maker,  who  presided  over 
the  President,  roared  out  to  my  three  professional 
friends,  "Non  nobis ;"  and  what  is  called  "  the 
business  of  the  evening,"  commenced. 

First,  the  Warden  of  the  Worshipful  Society  of 
the  Bellows-Menders  proposed  "  HER  MAJESTY"  in  a 
reverential  voice.  We  all  stood  up  respectfully, 
CHISEL  yelling  out  to  us  to  "  Charge  our  glasses." 
The  royal  health  having  been  imbibed,  the  profes 
sional  gentleman  ejaculated  a  part  of  the  National 
Anthem ;  and  I  do  not  mean  any  disrespect  to  them 
personally,  in  mentioning  that  this  eminently  religious 
hymn  was  performed  by  MESSRS.  SHADRACH  and  ME- 
SHECH,  two  well-known  melodists  of  the  Hebrew  per 
suasion.  We  clinked  our  glasses  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  poem,  making  more  dents  upon  the  time-worn  old 
board,  where  many  a  man  present  had  clinked  for 
GEORGE  III.,  clapped  for  GEORGE  IV.,  rapped  for 
WILLIAM  IV.,  and  was  rejoiced  to  bump  the  bottom 
of  his  glass  as  a  token  of  reverence  for  our  present 
sovereign. 

Here,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Hebrew  melophonists, 
I  would  insinuate  no  wrong  thought.  Gentlemen,  no 
doubt,  have  the  loyal  emotions  which  exhibit  them- 


A   DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  219 

selves  by  clapping  glasses  on  the  tables.  We  do  it 
at  home.  Let  us  make  no  doubt  that  the  bellows- 
menders,  tailors,  authors,  public  characters,  judges, 
aldermen,  sheriffs,  and  what  not,  shout  out  a  health 
for  the  Sovereign  every  night  at  their  banquets,  and 
that  their  families  fill  round  and  drink  the  same  toast 
from  the  bottles  of  half-guinea  Burgundy. 

"  His  ROYAL  HIGHNESS  PRINCE  ALBERT,  and  AL 
BERT  PRINCE  OF  WALES,  and  the  rest  of  the  Royal 
Family"  followed,  CHISEL  yelling  out  the  august 
titles,  and  all  of  us  banging  away  with  our  glasses,  as 
if  we  were  seriously  interested  in  drinking  healths  to 
this  royal  race  :  as  if  drinking  healths  could  do  any 
body  any  good  ;  as  if  the  imprecations  of  a  company 
of  bellows-menders,  aldermen,  magistrates,  tailors, 
authors,  tradesmen,  ambassadors,  who  did  not  care  a 
twopenny-piece  for  all  the  royal  families  in  Europe, 
could  somehow  affect  Heaven  kindly  towards  their 
Royal  Highnesses  by  their  tipsy  vows,  under  the  pres- 
idence  of  MR.  CHISEL. 

The  QUEEN  DOWAGER'S  health  was  next  prayed 
for  by  us  Bacchanalians,  I  need  not  say  with  what 
fervency  and  efficacy.  This  prayer  was  no  sooner  put 
up  by  the  Chairman,  with  CHISEL  as  his  BOANERGES 
of  a  Clerk,  than  the  elderly  Hebrew  gentlemen  be 
fore  mentioned,  began  striking  up  a  wild  patriotic 
ditty  about  the  "  Queen  of  the  Isles,  on  whose  sea 
girt  shores  the  bright  sun  smiles,  and  the  ocean  roars ; 


220  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

whose  cliffs  never  knew,  since  the  bright  sun  rose,  but 
a  people  true,  who  scorned  all  foes.  0,  a  people  true, 
who  scorn  all  wiles,  inhabit  you,  bright  Queen  of  the 
Isles.  Bright  Quee — Bright  Quee — ee — ee — ee — ee 
— en  awf  the  Isles  ! "  or  words  to  that  effect,  which 
SHADRACH  took  up  and  warbled  across  his  glass  to 
MESHECH,  which  MESHECH  trolled  away  to  his  brother 
singer,  until  the  ditty  was  ended,  nobody  understand 
ing  a  word  of  what  it  meant ;  not  OLDBOY — not  the 
old  or  young  Israelite  minstrel  his  companion — not 
we,  who  were  clinking  our  glasses — not  CHISEL,  who 
was  urging  us  and  the  Chairman  on — not  the  Chair 
man  and  the  guests  in  embroidery — not  the  kind, 
exalted,  and  amiable  lady  whose  health  we  were 
making  believe  to  drink,  certainly,  and  in  order  to 
render  whose  name  welcome  to  the  Powers  to  whom 
we  recommended  her  safety,  we  offered  up,  through 
the  mouths  of  three  singers,  hired  for  the  purpose,  a 
perfectly  insane  and  irrelevant  song. 

"  Why,"  says  I  to  PILLKINGTON,  "  the  Chairman 
and  the  grand  guests  might  just  as  well  get  up  and 
dance  round  the  table,  or  cut  off  CHISEL'S  head  and 
pop  it  into  a  turtle-soup  tureen,  or  go  through  any 
other  mad  ceremony  as  the  last.  Which  of  us  here 
cares  for  HER  MAJESTY  the  -QUEEN  DOWAGER,  any 
more  than  for  a  virtuous  and  eminent  lady,  whose 
goodness  and  private  worth  appear  in  all  her  acts  ? 
What  the  deuce  has  that  absurd  song  about  the  Queen 


'      A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  221 

of  the  Isles  to  do  with  HER  MAJESTY,  and  how  does  it 
set  us  all  stamping  with  our  glasses  on  the  mahogany  ?  " 
CHISEL  bellowed  out  another  toast — "  The  Army  ; " 
and  we  were  silent  in  admiration,  while  SIR  GEORGE 
BLUFF,  the  greatest  General  present,  rose  to  return 
thanks. 

Our  end  of  the  table  was  far  removed  from  the 
thick  of  the  affair,  and  we  only  heard,  as  it  were,  the 
indistinct  cannonading  of  the  General,  whose  force  had 
just  advanced  into  action.  We  saw  an  old  gentleman 
with  white  whiskers,  and  a  flaring  scarlet  coat  covered 
with  stars  and  gilding,  rise  up  with  a  frightened  and 
desperate  look,  and  declare  that  "  this  was  the  proud 
est — a-hem — moment  of  his — a-hem — unworthy  as  he 
was — a-hem — as  a  member  of  the  British — a-hem — 
who  had  fought  under  the  illustrious  DUKE  of — a-hem 
— his  joy  was  to  come  among  the  Bellows- Menders — 
a-hem — and  inform  the  great  merchants  of  the  greatest 
City  of  the — hum — that  a  British — a-hem — was  al 
ways  ready  to  do  his — hum.  NAPOLEON — Salamanca — 
a-hem — had  witnessed  their — hum,  haw— and  should 
any  other — hum — ho — casion  which  he  deeply  depre 
cated — haw — there  were  men  now  around  him — a-haw 
— who,  inspired  by  the  Bellows-Menders'  Company  and 
the  City  of  London — a-hum — would  do  their  duty  as 
— a-hum — a-haw — a-hah."  Immense  cheers,  yells, 
hurrays,  roars,  glass-smackings,  and  applause  followed 
this  harangue,  at  the  end  of  which  the  three  Israelites, 


222  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

encouraged  by  CHISEL,  began  a  military  cantata — 
"  0  the  sword  and  shield— On  the  battle-field— Are 
the  joys  that  best  we  love  boys — Where  the  Grena 
diers,  with  their  pikes  and  spears  through  the  ranks 
of  the  foemen  shove  boys — Where  the  bold  hurray 
strikes  dread  dismay  in  the  ranks  of  the  dead  and 
dyin' — and  the  baynet  clanks  in  the  Frenchmen's 
ranks,  as  they  fly  from  the  British  Lion."  (I  repeat, 
as  before,  that  I  quote  from  memory.) 

Then  the  Secretary  of  the  Tape  and  Sealing  Wax 
Office  rose  to  return  thanks  for  the  blessings  which 
we  begged  upon  the  Ministry.  He  was,  he  said,  but 
a  humble — the  humblest  member  of  that  body.  The 
suffrages  which  that  body  had  received  from  the  na 
tion  were  gratifying,  but  the  most  gratifying  testi 
monial  of  all,  was  the  approval  of  the  Bellows-Mend 
ers '  Company.  (Immense  applause.}  Yes,  among 
the  most  enlightened  of  the  mighty  corporations  of 
the  City,  the  most  enlightened  was  the  Bellows- 
Menders.  Yes,  he  might  say,  in  consonance  with 
their  motto,  and  in  defiance  of  illiberality,  Afflavet 
veritas  et  dissipati  sunt.  (Enormous  applause.) 
Yes,  the  thanks  and  pride  that  were  boiling  with  emo 
tion  in  his  bosom,  trembled  to  find  utterance  at  his 
lip.  Yes,  the  proudest  moment  of  his  life,  the  crown 
of  his  ambition,  the  meed  of  his  early  hopes  and  strug 
gles  and  aspirations,  was  at  that  moment  won  in  the 
approbation  of  the  Bellows-Menders.  Yes,  his 


A    DINNER    IN    THE    CITY.  223 

children  should  know  that  he  too  had  attended  at 
those  great,  those  noble,  those  joyous,  those  ancient 
festivals,  and  that  he  too,  the  humble  individual  who 
from  his  heart  pledged  the  assembled  company  in  a 
bumper — that  he  too  was  a  Bellows-Mender. 

SHADRACH,  MESHECH  and  OLDBOY,  at  this  began 
singing,  I  don't  know  for  what  reason,  a  rustic  madri 
gal,  describing  "  0  the  joys  of  bonny  May — bonny 
May — a-a-ay.  when  the  birds  sing  on  the  spray," 
&c.,  which  never,  as  I  could  see,  had  the  least  rela 
tion  to  that  or  any  other  ministry,  but  which  were, 
nevertheless,  applauded  by  all  present.  And  then 
the  Judges  returned  thanks;  and  the  Clergy  re 
turned  thanks  ;  and  the  Foreign  Ministers  had  an 
innings  (all  interspersed  by  my  friends'  indefatiga 
ble  melodies) ;  and  the  distinguished  foreigners 
present,  especially  MR.  WASHINGTON  JACKSON,  were 
greeted,  and  that  distinguished  American  rose  amidst 
thunders  of  applause. 

He  explained  how  Broadway  and  Cornhill  were 
in  fact  the  same.  He  showed  how  WASHINGTON  was 
in  fact  an  Englishman,  and  how  FRANKLIN  would 
never  have  been  an  American  but  for  his  education 
as  a  printer  in  Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.  He  declared 
that  MILTON  was  his  cousin,  LOCKE  his  ancestor, 
NEWTON  his  dearest  friend,  SHAKSPEARE  his  grand 
father,  or  more  or  less — he  vowed  that  he  had  wept 
tears  of  briny  anguish  on  the  pedestal  of  Charing 


224  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

Cross — kissed  with  honest  fervour  the  clay  of  Runny- 
mede — that  BEN  JONSON  and  SAMUEL — that  POPE 
and  DRYDEN,  and  DR.  WATTS  and  SWIFT  were  the 
darlings  of  his  hearth  and  home,  as  of  ours,  and  in  a 
speech  of  about  five-and-thirty  minutes  explained  to 
us  a  series  of  complimentary  sensations  very  hard  to 
repeat  or  to  remember. 

But  I  observed  that,  during  his  oration,  the  gen 
tlemen  who  report  for  the  daily  papers,  were  occupied 
with  their  wine  instead  of  their  note-books — that  the 
three  singers  of  Israel  yawned,  and  showed  many 
signs  of  disquiet  and  inebriety,  and  that  my  old 
friend,  who  had  swallowed  the  three  plates  of  turtle, 
was  sound  asleep. 

PILLKINGTON  and  I  quitted  the  banqueting-hall, 
and  went  into  the  tea-room,  were  gents  were  assem 
bled  still,  drinking  slops  and  eating  buttered  muffins, 
until  the  grease  trickled  down  their  faces.  Then  I 
resumed  the  query  which  I  was  just  about  to  put, 
when  grace  was  called  and  the  last  chapter  ended. 
"  And,  gracious  goodness  !"  I  said,  "  what  can  be  the 
meaning  of  a  ceremony  so  costly,  so  uncomfortable, 
so  savoury,  so  unwholesome  as  this  ?  Who  is  called 
upon  to  pay  two  or  three  guineas  for  my  dinner  now, 
in  this  blessed  year  1 847  ?  Who  is  it  that  can  want 
muffins  after  such  a  banquet  ?  Are  there  no  poor  ? 
Is  there  no  reason  ?  Is  this  monstrous  belly-worship 
to  exist  for  ever  ?" 


A    CLUB    IN    AN    UPROAR.  225 

"SPEC,"  the  Doctor  said,  "you  had  best  come 
away.  I  make  no  doubt  that  you  for  one  have  had 
too  much."  And  we  went  to  his  Brougham.  May 
nobody  have  such  a  headache  on  this  happy  New 
Year  as  befell  the  present  writer  on  the  morning  after 
the  Dinner  in  the  City  !  SPEC. 


A  CLUB  IN  AN  UPROAR.  (February  1848.) 

THE  appearance  of  a  London  Club  at  a  time  of 
great  excitement  is  well  worthy  the  remark  of  a 
traveller  in  this  city.  The  Megatherium  has  been  in 
a  monstrous  state  of  frenzy  during  the  past  days. 
What  a  queer  book  it  would  be  which  should  chronicle 
all  the  stories  which  have  been  told,  or  all  the  opin 
ions  which  have  been  uttered  there. 

As  a  Revolution  brings  out  into  light  of  day,  and 
into  the  streets  of  the  convulsed  capital,  swarms  of 
people  who  are  invisible  but  in  such  times  of  agitation, 
and  retreat  into  their  obscurity  as  soon  as  the  earth 
quake  is  over,  so  you  may  remark  in  Clubs,  that  the 
stirring  of  any  great  news  brings  forth  the  most  won 
derful  and  hitherto  unheard  of  members,  of  whose 
faces  not  the  habitues,  not  even  the  hall-porters,  have 
any  knowledge.  The  excitement  over,  they  vanish, 
and  are  seen  no  more  until  the  next  turmoil  calls 
them  forth. 

10* 


226  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

During  the  past  week,  our  beloved  Megatherium 
has  been  as  crowded  as  they  say  HER  MAJESTY'S 
Palace  of  Pimlico  at  present  is,  where  distressed 
foreigners,  fugitives,  and  other  COBURGS  are  crowded 
two  or  three  in  a  room ;  and  where  it  has  been  re 
ported  during  the  whole  of  the  past  week  that  LOUIS- 
PHILIPPE  himself,  in  disguise,  was  quartered  in  the 
famous  garden  pavilion,  and  plates  of  dinner  sent  out 
to  him  from  HER  MAJESTY'S  table.  I  had  the  story 
from  BOWYER  of  the  Megatherium,  who  had  seen  and 
recognised  the  ex-king  as  he  was  looking  into  the 
palace  garden  from  a  house  in  Grosvenor  Place  oppo 
site.  We  had  other  wonderful  stories  too,  whereof  it 
is  our  present  purpose  to  say  a  word  or  two. 

The  Club,  in  fact,  has  been  in  a  state  of  perfect 
uproar,  to  the  disgust  of  the  coffee-room  habitues,  of 
the  quiet  library  arm-chair  occupiers,  and  of  the  news 
paper-room  students,  who  could  not  get  their  accus 
tomed  broad-sheets.  Old  DOCTOR  POKEY  (who  is  in 
the  habit  of  secreting  newspapers  about  his  person, 
and  going  off  to  peruse  them  in  the  recondite  corners 
of  the  building)  has  been  wandering  about,  in  vain 
endeavouring  to  seize  hold  of  a  few.  They  say  that 
a  Morning  Chronicle  was  actually  pulled  from  under 
his  arm  during  the  last  week's  excitement.  The 
rush  for  second  editions  and  evening  papers  is  terrific. 
Members  pounce  on  the  news-boys  and  rob  them. 
Decorum  is  overcome. 


A    CLUB    IN    AN   UPROAR.  227 

All  the  decencies  of  society  are  forgotten  during 
this  excitement.  Men  speak  to  each  other  without 
being  introduced.  I  saw  a  man  in  ill-made  trowsers 
and  with  strong  red  whiskers  and  a  strong  northern 
accent,  go  up  to  Colonel  the  HONOURABLE  OTTO  DILL- 
WATER  of  the  Guards,  and  make  some  dreadful  re 
mark  about  Louis  FEELIP,  which  caused  the  Colonel 
to  turn  pale  with  anger.  I  saw  a  Bishop,  an  Under 
Secretary  of  State,  and  GENERAL  DE  BOOTS,  listening 
with  the  utmost  gravity  and  eagerness  to  little  BOB 
NODDY,  who  pretended  to  have  brought  some  news 
from  the  City,  where  they  say  he  is  a  Clerk  in  a  Fire 
Office. 

I  saw  all  sorts  of  portents  and  wonders.  On  the 
great  Saturday  night  (the  26th  ult.)  when  the  news 
was  rifest,  and  messenger  after  messenger  came  rush 
ing  in  with  wild  rumours,  men  were  seen  up  at  mid 
night  who  were  always  known  to  go  to  bed  at  ten.  A 
man  dined  in  the  Club  who  is  married,  and  who  has 
never  been  allowed  to  eat  there  for  eighteen  years. 
On  Sunday,  old  MR.  PUGH  himself,  who  moved  that 
the  house  should  be  shut,  no  papers  taken  in,  and  the 
waiters  marched  to  church  under  the  inspection  of 
the  steward,  actually  came  down  and  was  seen  reading 
the  Observer,  so  eager  was  the  curiosity  which  the 
great  events  excited. 

In  the  smoking-room  of  the  establishment,  where 
you  ordinarily  meet  a  very  small  and  silent  party, 


228  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

there  was  hardly  any  seeing  for  the  smoke,  any 
sitting  for  the  crowd,  or  any  hearing  in  consequence 
of  the  prodigious  bawling  and  disputing.  The  men 
uttered  the  most  furious  contradictory  statements 
there.  Young  BIFFIN  was  praying  that  the  rascally 
mob  might  be  cut  down  to  a  man ;  while  GULLET  was 
bellowing  out  that  the  safety  of  France  required  the 
re-establishment  of  the  guillotine,  and  that  four  heads 
must  be  had,  or  that  the  Revolution  was  not  complete. 

In  the  card-room,  on  the  great  night  in  question, 
there  was  only  one  whist-table,  and  at  that  even  they 
were  obliged  to  have  a  dummy.  CAPTAIN  THUMPING- 
TON  could  not  be  brought  to  play  that  night ;  and 
PAMM  himself  trumped  his  partner's  lead,  and  the 
best  heart ;  such  was  the  agitation  which  the  great 
European  events  excited.  When  DICKY  CUFF  came 
in,  from  His  EXCELLENCY  LORD  PILGRIMSTONE'S 
evening  party,  a  rush  was  made  upon  him  for  news, 
as  if  he  had  come  from  battle.  Even  the  waiters  ap 
peared  to  be  interested,  and  seemed  to  try  to  over 
hear  the  conversation. 

Every  man  had  his  story,  and  his  private  infor 
mation  ;  and  several  of  these  tales  I  took  down. 

"  Saturday,  five  o'clock.  JAWKINS  has  just  come 
from  the  City.  The  French  ROTHSCHILD  has  arrived. 
He  escaped  in  a  water-butt  as  far  as  Amiens,  whence 
he  went  on  in  a  coffin.  A  fourgon  containing  two 
hundred  and  twenty-two  thousand  two  hundred  sove- 


A    CLUB    IN    AN    UPROAR.  229 

reigns,  and  nine-and-fourpence  in  silver,  was  upset  in 
the  Rue  Saint  Denis.  The  coin  was  picked  up,  and 
the  whole  sum,  with  the  exception  of  the  fourpenny 
piece,  was  paid  over  to  the  Commissioners  at  the 
Hotel  de  Ville. 

"Some  say  it  was  a  quarter-franc.  It  was  found 
sticking,  afterwards,  to  the  sabot  of  an  Auvergnat, 
and  brought  in  safety  to  the  Provisional  Government. 

"  BLANKLEY  comes  in.  He  made  his  fortune  last 
year  by  the  railroads,  has  realised,  and  is  in  a  frantic 
state  of  terror.  '  The  miscreants  ! '  he  says.  '  The 
whole  population  is  in  arms.  They  are  pouring  down 
to  the  English  coast ;  the  sans-culottes  will  be  upon 
us  to-morrow,  and  we  shall  have  them  upon — upon 
my  estate  in  Sussex,  by  Jove !  COBDEN  was  in  a 
league  with  the  Revolutionary  government,  when  he 
said  there  would  be  no  war — laying  a  trap  to  lull  us 
into  security,  and  so  give  free  ingress  to  the  infernal 
revolutionary  villains.  There  are  not  a  thousand  men 
in  the  country  to  resist  them,  and  we  shall  all  be 
butchered  before  a  week  is  out — butchered,  and  our 
property  confiscated.  COBDEN  ought  to  be  impeached 
and  hanged.  LORD  JOHN  RUSSELL  ought  to  be  im 
peached  and  hanged.  Hopes  GUIZOT  will  be  guil 
lotined  for  not  having  used  cannon,  and  slaughtered 
the  ruffians  before  the  Revolution  came  to  a  head.1 
N.  B.  BLANKLEY  was  a  liberal  before  he  made  his 
money,  and  had  a  picture  of  TOM  PAINE  in  his  study. 


230  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

"  TOWZER  arrives.  A  messenger  has  just  come 
to  the  Foreign  Office  wounded  in  three  places,  and  in 
the  disguise  of  a  fishwonian.  Paris  is  in  flames  in 
twenty-four  quarters — the  mob  and  pikemen  raging 
through  it.  LAMARTINE  has  been  beheaded.  The 
forts  have  declared  for  the  King  and  are  bombarding 
the  town.  All  the  English  have  been  massacred. 

"  CAPTAIN  SHINDY  says, '  Nonsense  !  no  such  thing.' 
A  messenger  has  come  to  the  French  Embassy.  The 
King  and  family  are  at  Versailles.  The  two  Cham 
bers  have  followed  them  thither,  and  MARSHAL  Bu- 
GEAUD  has  rallied  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
men.  The  Parisians  have  three  days'  warning  :  and 
if  at  the  end  of  that  time  they  do  not  yield,  seven  hun 
dred  guns  will  open  on  the  dogs,  and  the  whole 
canaille  will  be  hurled  to  perdition. 

"  PIPKINSON  arrives.  The  English  in  Paris  are 
congregated  in  the  Protestant  Churches ;  a  guard  is 
placed  over  them.  It  is  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  the  rabble  are  prevented  from  massacreing  them. 
LADY  LUNCHINGTON  only  escaped  by  writing  '  Yeuve 
d'  0'  Connell '  on  her  door.  It  is  perfectly  certain 
that  GTUIZOT  is  killed.  LAMARTINE  and  the  rest  of 
the  Provisional  Government  have  but  a  few  days  to 
live :  the  Communists  will  destroy  them  infallibly ; 
and  universal  blood,  terror,  and  anarchy  will  prevail 
over  France,  over  Europe,  over  the  world. 

"  BouNCER-7-on  the  best  authority.     Thirty  thou- 


A    CLUB    IN    AN    UPROAR.  231 

sand  French  entered  Brussels  under  LAMORICIERE. 
No  harm  has  been  done  to  Leopold.  The  united 
French  and  Belgian  army  march  on  the  Rhine  on 
Monday.  Rhenish  Prussia  is  declared  to  form  a  part 
of  the  Republic.  A  division  under  GENERAL  BEDEAU 
will  enter  Savoy,  and  penetrate  into  Lombardy.  The 
Pope  abdicates  his  temporal  authority.  The  Rus 
sians  will  cross  the  Prusian  frontier  with  four  hundred 
thousand  men. 

"  BOWYER  has  just  come  from  Miv ART'S,  and  says 
that  rooms  are  taken  there  for  the  Pope,  who  has 
fled  from  his  dominions,  for  the  COUNTESS  OF  LANDS- 
FELD,  for  the  KING  OF  BAVARIA,  who  is  sure  to  follow 
immediately,  and  for  all  the  French  Princes,  and  their 
suite  and  families." 

It  was  in  this  way  that  Rumour  was  chattering 
last  week,  while  the  great  events  were  pending.  But 
oh,  my  friends !  wild  and  strange  as  these  stories 
were,  were  they  so  wonderful  as  the  truth  ? — as  an 
army  of  a  hundred  thousand  men  subdued  by  a  rising 
of  bare-handed  mechanics ;  as  a  great  monarch,  a 
minister  notorious  for  wisdom,  and  a  great  monarchy 
blown  into  annihilation  by  a  blast  of  national  breath  ; 
as  a  magnificent  dynasty  slinking  out  of  existence  in 
a  cab ;  as  a  gallant  prince,  with  an  army  at  his  back, 
never  so  much  as  drawing  a  sword,  but  at  a  summons 
from  a  citizen  of  the  National  Guard,  turning  tail 


232  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

and  sneaking  away ;  as  a  poet  braving  the  pikes 
which  had  scared  away  a  family  of  kings  and  princes, 
and  standing  forward  wise,  brave,  sensible  and  merci 
ful,  undismayed  on  the  tottering  pinnacle  of  popular 
power  ?  Was  there  ever  a  day  since  the  beginning 
of  history,  where  small  men  were  so  great,  and  great 
ones  so  little  ?  What  satirist  could  ever  have  dared 
to  invent  such  a  story  as  that  of  the  brave  and 
famous  race  of  Orleans  flying,  with  nobody  at  their 
backs ;  of  wives  and  husbands  separating,  and  the 
deuce  take  the  hindmost ;  of  ULYSSES  shaving  his 
whiskers  off,  and  flinging  away  even  his  wig  ?  It  is 
the  shamefullest  chapter  in  history — a  consummation 
too  base  for  ridicule. 

One  can't  laugh  at  anything  so  miserably  mean. 
All  the  Courts  in  Europe  ought  to  go  into  mourning, 
or  wear  sackcloth.  The  catastrophe  is  too  degrading. 
It  sullies  the  cause  of  all  kings,  as  the  misconduct  of 
a  regiment  does  an  army.  It  tarnishes  all  crowns. 
And  if  it  points  no  other  moral,  and  indicates  no 
future  consequences,  why,  Progress  is  a  mere  humbug: 
Railroads  lead  to  nothing,  and  Signs  point  nowhere  : 

and  there  is  no  To-morrow  for  the  world. 

SPEC. 


WAITING   AT    THE    STATION.  233 


WAITING    AT    THE    STATION. 

WE  are  amongst  a  number  of  people  waiting  for 
the  Blackwall  train  at  the  Fenchurch  Street  Station. 
Some  of  us  are  going  a  little  farther  than  Blackwall 
— as  far  as  G-ravesend ;  some  of  us  are  going  even 
farther  than  Gravesend — to  Port  Philip,  in  South 
Australia,  leaving  behind  the  patrice  fines  and  the 
pleasant  fields  of  old  England.  It  is  rather  a  queer 
sensation  to  be  in  the  same  boat  and  station  with  a 
party  that  is  going  upon  so  prodigious  a  journey. 
One  speculates  about  them  with  more  than  an  ordi 
nary  interest,  thinking  of  the  difference  between  your 
fate  and  theirs,  and  that  we  shall  never  behold  these 
faces  again. 

Some  eight-and-thirty  women  are  sitting  in  the 
large  Hall  of  the  station,  with  bundles,  baskets  and 
light  baggage,  waiting  for  the  steamer,  and  the  orders 
to  embark.  A  few  friends  are  taking  leave  of  them, 
bonnets  are  laid  together,  and  whispering  going  on. 
A  little  crying  is  taking  place  : — only  a  very  little 
crying, — and  among  those  who  remain,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  not  those  who  are  going  away.  They  leave  be 
hind  them  little  to  weep  for  ;  they  are  going  from 
bitter  cold  and  hunger,  constant  want  and  unavailing 
labour.  Why  should  they  be  sorry  to  quit  a  mother 
who  has  been  so  hard  to  them  as  our  country  has 


234  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

been  ?  How  many  of  these  women  will  ever  see  the 
shore  again,  upon  the  brink  of  which  they  stand,  and 
from  which  they  will  depart  in  a  few  minutes  more  ? 
It  makes  one  sad  and  ashamed  too,  that  they  should 
not  be  more  sorry.  But  how  are  you  to  expect  love 
where  you  have  given  such  scanty  kindness  ?  If  you 
saw  your  children  glad  at  the  thoughts  of  leaving 
you,  and  for  ever :  would  you  blame  yourselves,  or 
them  ?  It  is  not  that  the  children  are  ungrateful, 
but  the  home  was  unhappy,  and  the  parents  indiffer 
ent  or  unkind.  You  are  in  the  wrong  under  whose 
government  they  only  had  neglect  and  wretchedness  ; 
not  they,  who  can't  be  called  upon  to  love  such  an  un 
lovely  thing  as  misery,  or  to  make  any  other  return 
for  neglect  but  indifference  and  aversion. 

You  and  I,  let  us  suppose  again,  are  civilised  per 
sons.  We  have  been  decently  educated :  and  live 
decently  every  day,  and  wear  tolerable  clothes,  and 
practise  cleanliness :  and  love  the  arts  and  graces  of 
life.  As  we  walk  down  this  rank  of  eight-and-thirty 
female  emigrants,  let  us  fancy  that  we  are  at  Mel 
bourne,  and  not  in  London,  and  that  we  have  come 
down  from  our  sheep-walks,  or  clearings,  having  heard 
of  the  arrival  of  forty  honest,  well-recommended 
young  women,  and  having  a  natural  longing  to  take  a 
wife  home  to  the  bush — which  of  these  would  you 
like  ?  If  you  were  an  Australian  Sultan,  to  which 
of  these  would  you  throw  the  handkerchief?  I  am 


WAITING    AT    THE    STATION.  235 

afraid  not  one  of  them.  I  fear,  in  our  present  mood 
of  mind,  we  should  mount  horse  and  return  to  the 
country,  preferring  a  solitude,  and  to  be  a  bachelor, 
than  to  put  up  with  one  of  these  for  a  companion. 
There  is  no  girl  here  to  tempt  you  by  her  looks  ; 
(and,  world-wiseacre  as  you  are,  it  is  by  these  you 
are  principally  moved) — there  is  no  pretty,  modest, 
red-cheeked  rustic, — no  neat,  trim,  little  grisette, 
such  as  what  we  call  a  gentleman  might  cast  his  eyes 
upon  without  too  much  derogating,  and  might  find 
favour  in  the  eyes  of  a  man  about  town.  No  ;  it  is 
a  homely  bevy  of  women  with  scarcely  any  beauty 
amongst  them — their  clothes  are  decent,  but  not  the 
least  picturesque — their  faces  are  pale  and  care-worn 
for  the  most  part — how,  indeed,  should  it  be  other 
wise,  seeing  that  they  have  known  xsare  and  want  all 
their  days  ? — there  they  sit  upon  bare  benches,  with 
dingy  bundles,  and  great  cotton  umbrellas — and  the 
truth  is,  you  are  not  a  hardy  colonist,  a  feeder  of 
sheep,  a  feller  of  trees,  a  hunter  of  kangaroos — but  a 
London  man,  and  my  lord  the  Sultan's  cambric  hand 
kerchief  is  scented  with  Bond  Street  perfumery — 
you  put  it  in  your  pocket,  and  couldn't  give  it  to  any 
one  of  these  women. 

They  are  not  like  you,  indeed.  They  have  not 
your  tastes  and  feelings  :  your  education  and  refine 
ments.  They  would  not  understand  a  hundred  things 
which  seem  perfectly  simple  to  you.  They  would 


236  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

shock  you  a  hundred  times  a  day  by  as  many  defi 
ciencies  of  politeness,  or  by  outrages  upon  the 
Queen's  English — by  practices  entirely  harmless,  and 
yet  in  your  eyes  actually  worse  than  crimes — they 
have  large  hard  hands  and  clumsy  feet.  The  woman 
you  love  must  have  pretty  soft  fingers  that  you  may 
hold  in  yours  :  must  speak  her  language  properly,  and 
at  least  when  you  offer  her  your  heart,  must  return 
hers  with  its  h  in  the  right  place,  as  she  whispers 
that  it  is  yours,  or  you  will  have  none  of  it.  If  she 
says,  "  0  Hedward,  I  ham  so  unappy  to  think  I  shall 
never  beold  you  agin," — though  her  emotion  on 
leaving  you  might  be  perfectly  tender  and  genuine, 
you  would  be  obliged  to  laugh.  If  she  said,  "  Hed 
ward,  my  art  is  yours  for  hever  and  hever  "  (and  any 
body  heard  her),  she  might  as  well  stab  you, — you 
couldn't  accept  the  most  faithful  affection  offered  in 
such  terms — you  are  a  town-bred  man.  I  say,  and 
your  handkerchief  smells  of  Bond-Street  musk  and 
millefleur.  A  sun-burnt  settler  out  of  the  Bush 
won't  feel  any  of  these  exquisite  tortures,  or  under 
stand  this  kind  of  laughter :  or  object  to  Molly  be 
cause  her  hands  are  coarse  and  her  ancles  thick :  but 
he  will  take  her  back  to  his  farm,  where  she  will 
nurse  his  children,  bake  his  dough,  milk  his  cows,  and 
cook  his  kangaroo  for  him. 

But  between  you,  an  educated  Londoner,  and  that 
woman,  is   not  the   union   absurd   and  impossible  ? 


WAITING    AT    THE    STATION.  237 

Would  it  not  be  unbearable  for  either?  Solitude 
would  be  incomparably  pleasanter  than  such  a  com 
panion. — You  might  take  her  with  a  handsome  for 
tune,  perhaps,  were  you  starving  ;  but  then  it  is  be 
cause  you  want  a  house  and  carriage,  let  us  say,  (your 
necessaries  of  life,)  and  must  have  them  even  if  you 
purchase  them  with  your  precious  person.  You 
do  as  much,  or  your  sister  does  as  much,  every  day. 
That  however  is  not  the  point :  I  am  not  talking 
about  the  meanness  to  which  your  worship  may  be 
possibly  obliged  to  stoop,  in  order,  as  you  say,  "  to 
keep  up  your  rank  in  society  " — only  stating  that  this 
immense  social  difference  does  exist.  You  don't  like 
to  own  it :  or  don't  choose  to  talk  about  it,  and  such 
things  had  much  better  not  be  spoken  about  at  all.  I 
hear  your  worship  say,  there  must  be  differences  in  rank 
and  so  forth  !  Well !  out  with  it  at  once,  you  don't 
think  MOLLY  is  your  equal — nor  indeed  is  she  in  the 
possession  of  many  artificial  acquirements.  She  can't 
make  Latin  verses,  for  example,  as  you  used  to  do  at 
school,  she  can't  speak  French  and  Italian  as  your 
wife  very  likely  can,  &c. — and  in  so  far  she  is  your 
inferior,  and  your  amiable  lady's. 

But  what  I  note,  what  I  marvel  at,  what  I  ac 
knowledge,  what  I  am  ashamed  of,  what  is  contrary 
to  Christian  morals,  manly  modesty  and  honesty,  and 
to  the  national  well-being,  is  that  there  should  be 
that  immense  social  distinction  between  the  well- 


238  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

dressed  classes  (as,  if  you  will  permit  me,  we  will  call 
ourselves)  and  our  brethren  and  sisters  in  the  fustian 
jackets  and  pattens.  If  you  deny  it  for  your  part, 
I  say  that  you  are  mistaken,  and  deceive  yourself 
woefully.  I  say  that  you  have  been  educated  to  it 
through  Gothic  ages,  and  have  had  it  handed  down 
to  you  from  your  fathers  (not  that  they  were  anybody 
in  particular,  but  respectable,  well-dressed  progeni 
tors,  let  us  say  for  a  generation  or  two) — from  your 
well-dressed  fathers  before  you.  How  long  ago  is  it, 
that  our  preachers  were  teaching  the  poor  "  to  know 
their  station  ? "  that  it  was  the  peculiar  boast  of  Eng 
lishmen,  that  any  man,  the  humblest  among  us,  could, 
by  talent,  industry,  and  good  luck,  hope  to  take  his 
place  in  the  aristocracy  of  his  country,  and  that  we 
pointed  with  pride  to  Lord  This  who  was  the  grand 
son  of  a  barber ;  and  to  Earl  That,  whose  father  was 
an  apothecary  ?  what  a  multitude  of  most  respectable 
folks  pride  themselves  on  these  things  still !  The 
gulf  is  not  impassable,  because  one  man  in  a  million 
swims  over  it,  and  we  hail  him  for  his  strength  and 
success.  He  has  landed  on  the  happy  island.  He 
is  one  of  the  aristocracy.  Let  us  clap  hands  and  ap 
plaud.  There's  no  country  like  ours  for  rational 
freedom. 

If  you  go  up  and  speak  to  one  of  these  women,  as 
you  do  (and  very  good-naturedly,  and  you  can't  help 
that  confounded  condescension),  she  curtsies  and 


WAITING    AT    THE    STATION.  239 

holds  down  her  head  meekly,  and  replies  with  mo 
desty,  as  becomes  her  station,  to  your  honour  with 
the  clean  shirt  and  the  well-made  coat.  And  so  she 
should  ;  what  hundreds  of  thousands  of  us  rich  and 
poor  say  still.  Both  believe  this  to  be  bounden 
duty  ;  and  that  a  poor  person  should  naturally  bob 
her  head  to  a  rich  one  physically  and  morally. 

Let  us  get  her  last  curtsy  from  her  as  she  stands 
here  upon  the  English  shore.  When  she  gets  into 
the  Australian  woods  her  back  won't  bend  except  to 
her  labour ;  or,  if  it  do,  from  old  habit  and  the  remi 
niscence  of  the  old  country,  do  you  suppose  her  chil 
dren  will  be  like  that  timid  creature  before  you  ? 
They  will  know  nothing  of  that  Gothic  society,  with 
its  ranks  and  hierarchies,  its  cumbrous  ceremonies, 
its  glittering  antique  paraphernalia,  in  which  we 
have  been  educated  ;  in  which  rich  and  poor  still  ac 
quiesce,  and  which  multitudes  of  both  still  admire  : 
far  removed  from  these  old  world  traditions,  they 
will  be  bred  up  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  freedom, 
manly  brotherhood.  Do  you  think  if  your  worship's 
grandson  goes  into  the  Australian  woods,  or  meets 
the  grandchild  of  one  of  yonder  women  by  the  banks 
of  the  Warrawarra,  the  Australian  will  take  a  hat 
off  or  bob  a  curtsy  to  the  new  comer  ?  He  will  hold 
out  his  hand,  and  say,  "  Stranger,  come  into  my  house 
and  take  a  shakedown  and  have  a  share  of  our  sup 
per.  You  come  out  of  the  old  country,  do  you? 


240  TRAVELS   IN   LONDON. 

There  was  some  people  were  kind  to  my  grandmother 
there,  and  sent  her  out  to  Melbourne.  Times  are 
changed  since  then — come  in  and  welcome  !  " 

What  a  confession  it  is  that  we  have  almost  all 
of  us  been  obliged  to  make  !  A  clever  and  earnest- 
minded  writer  gets  a  commission  from  the  Morning 
Chronicle  newspaper,  and  reports  upon  the  state  of 
our  poor  in  London ;  he  goes  amongst  labouring 
people  and  poor  of  all  kinds — and  brings  back  what  ? 
A  picture  of  human  life  so  wonderful,  so  awful,  so 
piteous  and  pathetic,  so  exciting  and  terrible,  that 
readers  of  romances  own  they  never  read  anything 
like  to  it ;  and  that  the  griefs,  struggles,  strange  ad 
ventures  here  depicted,  exceed  anything  that  any  of 
us  could  imagine.  Yes  ;  and  these  wonders  and  ter 
rors  have  been  lying  by  your  door  and  mine  ever 
since  we  had  a  door  of  our  own.  We  had  but  to 
go  a  hundred  yards  off  and  see  for  ourselves,  but  we 
never  did.  Don't  we  pay  poor-rates,  and  are  they 
not  heavy  enough  in  the  name  of  patience  1  Very 
true  ;  and  we  have  our  own  private  pensioners,  and 
give  away  some  of  our  superfluity,  very  likely.  You 
are  not  unkind  ;  not  ungenerous.  But  of  such  won 
drous  and  complicated  misery  as  this  you  confess  you 
had  no  idea  ?  No.  How  should  you  ? — you  and  I 
— we  are  of  the  upper  classes  ;  we  have  had  hitherto 
no  community  with  the  poor.  We  never  speak  a 
word  to  the  servant  who  waits  on  us  for  twenty 


WAITING    AT    THE    STATION.  241 

years  ;  we  condescend  to  employ  a  tradesman,  keep 
ing  him  at  a  proper  distance,  mind — of  course,  at  a 
proper  distance — we  laugh  at  his  young  men,  if  they 
dance,  jig,  and  amuse  themselves  like  their  betters, 
and  call  them  counter-jumpers,  snobs,  and  what  not ; 
of  his  workmen  we  know  nothing,  how  pitilessly  they 
are  ground  down,  how  they  live  and  die,  here  close 
by  us  at  the  backs  of  our  houses ;  until  some  poet 
like  HOOD  wakes  and  sings  that  dreadful  "  Song  of 
the  Shirt ;  "  some  prophet  like  CARLYLE  rises  up  and 
denounces  woe  ;  some  clear-sighted,  energetic  man 
like  the  writer  of  the  Chronicle  travels  into  the  poor 
man's  country  for  us,  and  comes  back  with  his  tale 
of  terror  and  wonder. 

Awful,  awful  poor  man's  country !  The  bell 
rings  and  these  eight-and-thirty  women  bid  adieu  to 
it,  rescued  from  it  (as  a  few  thousands  more  will  be) 
by  some  kind  people  who  are  interested  in  their  be 
half.  In  two  hours  more,  the  steamer  lies  alongside 
the  ship  CuZZoden,  which  will  bear  them  to  their 
new  home.  Here  are  the  berths  aft  for  the  unmar 
ried  women,  the  married  couples  are  in  the  midships, 
the  bachelors  in  the  fore-part  of  the  ship.  Above 
and  below  decks  it  swarms  and  echoes  with  the  bustle 
of  departure.  The  Emigration  Commissioner  comes 
and  calls  over  their  names ;  there  are  old  and  young, 
large  families,  numbers  of  children  already  accus 
tomed  to  the  ship,  and  looking  about  with  amused 
11 


242  TRAVELS    IN   LONDON. 

unconsciousness.  One  was  born  but  just  now  on 
board  ;  he  will  not  know  how  to  speak  English  till  he 
is  fifteen  thousand  miles  away  from  home.  Some  of 
these  kind  people  whose  bounty  and  benevolence 
organised  the  Female  Emigration  Scheme,  are  here 
to  give  a  last  word  and  shake  of  the  hand  to  their 
protegees.  They  hang  sadly  and  gratefully  round 
their  patrons.  One  of  them,  a  clergyman,  who  has 
devoted  himself  to  this  good  work,  says  a  few  words 
to  them  at  parting.  It  is  a  solemn  minute  indeed — 
for  those  who  (with  the  few  thousand  who  will  follow 
them)  are  leaving  the  country  and  escaping  from  the 
question  between  rich  and  poor ;  and  what  for  those 
who  remain  1  But,  at  least,  those  who  go  will  re 
member  that  in  their  misery  here  they  found  gentle 
hearts  to  love  and  pity  them,  and  generous  hands  to 
give  them  succour,  and  will  plant  in  the  new  country 
this  grateful  tradition  of  the  old. — May  Heaven's 
good  mercy  speed  them  ! 


I. 


HAVING  made  a  solemn  engagement  during  the  last 
Midsummer  holidays  with  my  young  friend  AUGUSTUS 
JONES,  that  we  should  go  to  a  Christmas  Pantomime 
together,  and  being  accommodated  by  the  obliging 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  243 

proprietors  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre  with  a  private 
box  for  last  Tuesday,  I  invited  not  only  him  but 
some  other  young  friends  to  be  present  at  the  enter 
tainment.  The  two  Miss  TWIGGS,  the  charming 
daughters  of  the  REV.  MR.  TWIGG,  our  neighbour; 
Miss  MINNY  TWIGG,  their  youngest  sister,  eight  years 
of  age  ;  and  their  maternal  aunt,  MRS.  CAPTAIN  FLA- 
THER,  as  the  Chaperon  of  the  young  ladies,  were  the 
four  other  partakers  of  this  amusement  with  myself 
and  MR.  JONES. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  ladies,  who  live  in  Mont- 
pellier  Square,  Brompton,  should  take  up  myself 
and  MASTER  AUGUSTUS  at  the  Sarcophagus  Club, 
which  is  on  the  way  to  the  theatre,  and  where  we  two 
gentlemen  dined  on  the  day  appointed.  Cox's  most 
roomy  fly,  the  mouldy  green  one,  in  which  he  insists 
on  putting  the  roaring-grey  horse,  was  engaged  for 
the  happy  evening.  Only  an  intoxicated  driver  (as 
Cox's  man  always  is)  could  ever,  I  am  sure,  get  that 
animal  into  a  trot.  But  the  utmost  fury  of  the  whip 
will  not  drive  him  into  a  dangerous  pace  ;  and  be 
sides,  the  ladies  were  protected  by  THOMAS,  MRS. 
FLATHER'S  page,  a  young  man  with  a  gold  band  to 
his  hat,  and  a  large  gilt  knob  on  the  top,  who  en 
sured  the  safety  of  the  cargo,  and  really  gave  the 
vehicle  the  dignity  of  one's  own  carriage. 
*  The  dinner  hour  at  the  Sarcophagus  being  ap 
pointed  for  five  o'clock,  and  a  table  secured  in  the 


244  TRAVELS   IN   LONDON. 

strangers'  room,  MASTER  JONES  was  good  enough  to 
arrive  (under  the  guardianship  of  the  Colonel's  foot 
man)  about  half-an-hour  before  the  appointed  time, 
and  the  interval  was  by  him  partly  passed  in  conver 
sation,  but  chiefly  in  looking  at  a  large  silver  watch 
which  he  possesses,  and  in  hoping  that  we  shouldn't 
be  late. 

I  made  every  attempt  to  pacify  and  amuse  my 
young  guest,  whose  anxiety  was  not  about  the  dinner 
but  about  the  play.  I  tried  him  with  a  few  questions 
about  Greek  and  Mathematics — a  sort  of  talk,  how 
ever,  which  I  .was  obliged  speedily  to  abandon,  for  I 
found  he  knew  a  great  deal  more  upon  these  subjects 
than  I  did  —  (it  is  disgusting  how  preternaturally 
learned  the  boys  of  our  day  are,  by  the  way.)  I  en 
gaged  him  to  relate  anecdotes  about  his  schoolfellows 
and  ushers,  which  he  did,  but  still  in  a  hurried,  agi 
tated,  nervous  manner — evidently  thinking  about  that 
sole  absorbing  subject,  the  pantomime. 

A  neat  little  dinner,  served  in  BATIFOL'S  best 
manner  (our  chef  at  the  Sarcophagus  knows  when  he 
has  to  deal  with  a  connoisseur,  and  would  as  soon 
serve  me  up  his  own  ears  as  a  rechauffe,  dish),  made 
scarcely  any  impression  on  young  JONES.  After  a 
couple  of  spoonfuls,  he  pushed  away  the  Palestine 
soup,  and  took  out  his  large  silver  watch — he  applied 
two  or  three  times  to  the  chronometer  during  the  fish 
•period — and  it  was  not  until  I  had  him  employed 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  245 

upon  an  omelette,  full  of  apricot  jam,  that  the  young 
gentleman  was  decently  tranquil. 

With  the  last  mouthful  of  the  omelette  he  began 
to  fidget  again  ;  and  it  still  wanted  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  of  six.  Nuts,  almonds  and  raisins,  figs  (the  al 
most  never-failing  soother  of  youth),  I  hoped  might 
keep  him  quiet,  and  laid  before  him  all  those  delica 
cies.  But  he  beat  the  devil's  tattoo  with  the  nut 
crackers,  had  out  the  watch  time  after  time,  declared 
that  it  stopped,  and  made  such  a  ceaseless  kicking  on 
the  legs  of  his  chair,  that  there  were  moments  when 
I  wished  he  was  back  in  the  parlour  of  MRS.  JONES, 
his  Mamma. 

I  know  oldsters  who  have  a  savage  pleasure  in 
making  boys  drunk — a  horrid  thought  of  this  kind 
may  perhaps  have  crossed  my  mind.  "  If  I  could 
get  him  to  drink  half-a-dozen  glasses  of  that  heavy 
Port,  it  might  soothe  him  and  make  him  sleep,"  I 
may  have  thought.  But  he  would  only  take  a  couple 
of  glasses  of  wine.  He  said  he  didn't  like  more ; 
that  his  father  did  not  wish  him  to  take  more  :  and 
abashed  by  his  frank  and  honest  demeanour,  I  would 
not  press  him,  of  course,  a  single  moment  further,  and 
so  was  forced  to  take  the  bottle  to  myself,  to  soothe 
me  instead  of  my  young  guest. 

He  was  almost  frantic  at  a  quarter  to  seven,  by 
which  time  the  ladies  had  agreed  to  call  for  us,  and 
for  about  five  minutes  was  perfectly  dangerous.  "  "We 


246  TRAVELS    IN   LONDON. 

shall  be  late,  I  know  we  shall ;  I  said  we  should  !  I 
am  sure  it's  seven,  past,  and  that  the  box  will  be 
taken  ! "  and  countless  other  exclamations  of  fear  and 
impatience  passed  through  his  mind.  At  length  we 
heard  a  carriage  stop,  and  a  club-servant  entering  and 
directing  himself  towards  our  table.  Young  JONES 
did  not  want  to  hear  him  speak,  but  cried  out, — 
"  Hooray,  here  they  are ! "  flung  his  napkin  over  his 
head,  dashed  off  his  chair,  sprang  at  his  hat  like  a 
kitten  at  a  ball,  and  bounced  out  of  the  door,  crying 
out,  "  Come  along,  MR.  SPECK  ! "  whilst  the  individual 
addressed  much  more  deliberately  followed.  "  Happy 
AUGUSTUS  ! "  I  mentally  exclaimed.  "  0  thou  brisk 
and  bounding  votary  of  pleasure !  When  the  virile 
toga  has  taken  the  place  of  the  jacket  and  turned-down 
collar,  that  Columbine,  who  will  float  before  you  a 
goddess  to-night,  will  only  be  a  third-rate  dancing 
female,  with  rouge,  and  large  feet.  You  will  see  the 
ropes  by  which  the  genii  come  down,  and  the  dirty, 
crumpled  knees  of  the  fairies — and  you  won't  be  in 
such  a  hurry  to  leave  a  good  bottle  of  Port  as  now  at 
the  pleasant  age  of  thirteen." — [By  the  way,  boys 
are  made  so  abominably  comfortable  and  odiously 
happy,  now-a-days,  that  when  I  look  back  to '  1 802, 
and  my  own  youth,  I  get  in  a  rage  with  the  whole 
race  of  boys,  and  feel  inclined  to  flog  them  all  round.] 
Paying  the  bill,  I  say,  and  making  these  leisurely 
observations,  I  passed  under  the  hall  of  the  Sarcoph- 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  247 

agus,  where  THOMAS,  the  page,  touched  the  gold- 
knobbed  hat  respectfully  to  me,  in  a  manner  which 
I  think  must  have  rather  surprised  old  GENERAL 
GROWLER,  who  was  unrolling  himself  of  his  muffetees 
and  wrappers,  and  issued  into  the  street,  where  Cox's 
fly  was  in  waiting:  the  windows  up,  and  whitened 
with  a  slight  frost :  the  silhouettes  of  the  dear  beings 
within  dimly  visible  against  the  chemist's  light  oppo 
site  the  Club ;  and  MASTER  AUGUSTUS  already  kick 
ing  his  heels  on  the  box,  by  the  side  of  the  inebriated 
driver. 

I  caused  the  youth  to  descend  from  that  perch, 
and  the  door  of  the  fly  being  opened,  thrust  him  in. 
MRS.  CAPTAIN  FLATHER  of  course  occupied  the  place 
of  honour — an  uncommonly  capacious  woman, — and 
one  of  the  young  ladies  made  a  retreat  from  the  front 
seat,  in  order  to  leave  it  vacant  for  myself ;  but  I  in 
sisted  on  not  incommoding  MRS.  CAPTAIN  F.,  and 
that  the  two  darling  children  should  sit  beside  her, 
while  I  occupied  the  place  of  back  bodkin  between 
the  two  Miss  TWIGGS. 

They  were  attired  in  white,  covered  up  with 
shawls,  with  bouquets  in  their  laps,  and  their  hair 
dressed  evidently  for  the  occasion :  MRS.  FLATHER 
in  her  red  velvet,  of  course,  with  her  large  gilt  state 
turban. 

She  saw  that  we  were  squeezed  on  our  side  of  the 
carriage,  and  made  an  offer  to  receive  me  on  hers. 


248  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

Squeezed?  I  should  think  we  were;  but  0 
EMILY,  0  LOUISA,  you  mischievous  little  black-eyed 
creatures,  who  would  dislike  being  squeezed  by  you  ? 
I  wished  it  was  to  York  we  were  going,  and  not  to 
Covent  Garden.  How  swiftly  the  moments  passed. 
We  were  at  the  play-house  in  no  time :  and  AUGUSTUS  ; 
plunged  instantly  out  of  the  fly  over  the  shins  of 
everybody. 


II. 


WE  took  possession  of  the  private  box  assigned 
to  us:  and  MRS.  FLATHER  seated  herself  in  the 
place  of  honour — each  of  the  young  ladies  taking  it 
by  turns  to  occupy  the  other  corner.  Miss  MINNY  and 
MASTER  JONES  occupied  the  middle  places ;  and  it 
was  pleasant  to  watch  the  young  gentleman  through 
out  the  performance  of  the  comedy — during  which 
he  was  never  quiet  for  two  minutes — now  shifting  his 
chair,  now  swinging  to  and  fro  upon  it,  now  digging 
his  elbows  into  the  capacious  sides  of  MRS.  CAPTAIN 
FLATHER,  now  beating  with  his  boots  against  the 
front  of  the  box,  or  trampling  upon  the  skirts  of  MRS. 
FLATHER'S  satin  garment. 

He  occupied  himself  unceasingly,  too,  in  working 
up  and  down  MRS.  F.'sdouble-barelled  French  opera- 
glass — not  a  little  to  the  detriment  of  that  instru 
ment  and  the  wrath  of  the  owner  ;  indeed,  I  have  no 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  249 

doubt,  that  had  not  MRS.  FLATHER  reflected  that  MRS. 
COLONEL  JONES  gave  some  of  the  most  elegant  par 
ties  in  London,  to  which  she  was  very  anxious  to  be 
invited,  she  would  have  boxed  MASTER  AUGUSTUS'S 
ears  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  audience  of  Covent 
Garden. 

One  of  the  young  ladies  was,  of  course,  obliged 
to  remain  in  the  back  row  with  MR.  SPEC.  We 
could  not  see  much  of  the  play  over  MRS.  F.'s  tur 
ban  ;  but  I  trust  that  we  were  not  unhappy  in  our  re 
tired  position.  0  Miss  EMILY  !  0  Miss  LOUISA  ! 
there  is  one  who  would  be  happy  to  sit  for  a  week 
close  by  either  of  you,  though  it  were  on  one  of  those 
abomina.ble  little  private-box  chairs.  I  know,  for  my 
part,  that  every  time  the  box-keeperess  popped  in  her 
head,  and  asked  if  we  would  take  any  refreshment,  I 
thought  the  interruption  odious. 

Our  young  ladies,  and  their  stout  chaperon  and 
aunt,  had  come  provided  with  neat  little  bouquets  of 
flowers,  in  which  they  evidently  took  a  considerable 
pride,  and  which  were  laid,  on  their  first  entrance,  on 
the  ledge  in  front  of  our  box. 

But,  presently,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  house 
MRS.  CUTBUSH,  of  Pocklington  Gardens,  appeared 
with  her  daughters,  and  bowed  in  a  patronising  man 
ner  to  the  ladies  of  our  party,  with  whom  the  CUTBUSH 
family  had  a  slight  acquaintance. 

Before  ten  minutes,  the  bouquets  of  our  party 


$50  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

were  whisked  away  from  the  ledge  of  the  box.  MRS. 
FLATHER  dropped  hers  to  the  ground,  where  MASTER 
JONES'S  feet  speedily  finished  it ;  Miss  LOUISA  TWIGG 
let  hers  fall  into  her  lap  and  covered  it  with  her 
pocket-handkerchief.  Uneasy  signals  passed  between 
her  and  her  sister.  I  could  not,  at  first,  understand 
wrhat  event  had  occurred  to  make  these  ladies  so  un 
happy. 

At  last  the  secret  came  out.  The  MISSES  CUT- 
BUSH  had  bouquets  like  little  haystacks  before  them. 
Our  small  nosegays,  which  had  quite  satisfied  the  girls 
until  now,  had  become  odious  in  their  little  jealous 
eyes ;  and  the  CUTBUSHES  triumphed  over  them. 

I  have  joked  the  ladies  subsequently  on  this  ad 
venture  ;  but  not  one  of  them  will  acknowledge  the 
charge  against  them.  It  was  mere  accident  that 
made  them  drop  the  flowers — pure  accident.  They 
jealous  of  the  CUTBUSHES — not  they  indeed  !  and,  of 
course,  each  person  on  this  head  is  welcome  to  his 
own  opinion. 

How  different,  meanwhile,  was  the  behaviour  of 
my  young  friend  MASTER  JONES,  who  is  not  as  yet 
sophisticated  by  the  world.  He  not  only  nodded  to 
his  father's  servant,  who  had  taken  a  place  in  the  pit, 
and  was  to  escort  his  young  master  home,  but  he  dis 
covered  a  schoolfellow  in  the  pit  likewise.  "  By  Jore, 
there's  SMITH  ! "  he  cried  out,  as  if  the  sight  of 
SMITH  was  the  most  extraordinary  event  in  the  world. 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  251 

He  pointed  out  SMITH  to  all  of  us.  He  never  ceas 
ed  nodding,  winking,  grinning,  telegraphing,  until  he 
had  succeeded  in  attracting  the  attention  not  only  of 
MASTER  SMITH,  but  of  the  greater  part  of  the  house ; 
and  whenever  anything  in  the  play  struck  him  as  wor 
thy  of  applause,  he  instantly  made  signals  to  SMITH 
below,  and  shook  his  fist  at  him,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  By  Jove,  old  fellow,  ain't  it  good  ?  I  say,  SMITH, 
isn't  it  prime,  old  boy  ?  "  He  actually  made  remarks 
on  his  fingers  to  MASTER  SMITH  during  the  perform 
ance. 

I  confess  he  was  one  of  the  best  parts  of  the 
night's  entertainment  to  me.  How  JONES  and  SMITH 
will  talk  about  that  play  when  they  meet  after  holi 
days  !  And  not  only  then  will  they  remember  it, 
but  all  their  lives  long.  Why  do  you  remember  that 
play  you  saw  thirty  years  ago,  and  forget  the  one 
over  which  you  yawned  last  week  ?  Ah,  my  brave 
little  boy,  I  thought,  in  my  heart ;  twenty  years  hence 
you  will  recollect  this,  and  have  forgotten  many  a 
better  thing.  You  will  have  been  in  love  twice  or 
thrice  by  that  time,  and  have  forgotten  it ;  you  will 
have  buried  your  wife  and  forgotten  her ;  you  will 
have  had  ever  so  many  friendships  and  forgotten 
them.  You  and  SMITH  won't  care  for  each  other, 
very  probably ;  but  you'll  remember  all  the  actors 
and  the  plot  of  this  piece  we  are  seeing. 

I  protest  I  have  forgotten  it  myself.      In  our 


252  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON, 

back  row  we  could  not  see  or  hear  much  of  the  per 
formance  (and  no  great  loss) — fitful  bursts  of  elocu 
tion  only  occasionally  reaching  us,  in  which  we  could 
recognise  the  well-known  nasal  twang  of  the  excel 
lent  MR.  STUPOR,  who  performed  the  part  of  the 
young  hero ;  or  the  ringing  laughter  of  MRS.  BEL- 
MORE,  who  had  to  giggle  through  the  whole  piece. 

It  was  one  of  MR.  BOYSTER'S  Comedies  of 
English  Life.  FRANK  NIGHTRAKE  (Stupor),  and  his 
friend,  BOB  FITZOFFLEY.  appeared  in  the  first  scene, 
having  a  conversation  with  that  impossible  Valet  of 
English  Comedy,  whom  any  gentleman  would  turn 
out  of  doors  before  he  could  get  through  half  a 
length  of  the  dialogue  assigned.  I  caught  only  a 
glimpse  of  this  Act.  BOB,  like  a  fashionable  young 
dog  of  the  aristocracy  (the  character  was  played  by 
BULGER,  a  meritorious  man,  but  very  stout,  and 
nearly  fifty  years  of  age),  was  dressed  in  a  rhubarb- 
colored  body-coat  with  brass  buttons,  a  couple  of 
under  waistcoats,  a  blue  satin  stock  with  a  paste 
brooch  in  it,  and  an  eighteenpenny  cane,  which  he 
never  let  out  of  his  hand,  and  with  which  he  poked 
fun  at  everybody.  FRANK  NIGHTRAKE,  on  the  con 
trary,  being  at  home,  was  attired  in  a  very  close- 
fitting  chintz  dressing-gown,  lined  with  glazed  red 
calico,  and  was  seated  before  a  large  pewter  teapot, 
at  breakfast.  And,  as  your  true  English  Comedy  is 
the  representation  of  Nature,  I  could  not  but  think 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  253 

how  like  these  figures  on  the  stage,  and  the  dialogue 
which  they  used,  were  to  the  appearance  and  talk  of 
English  gentlemen  of  the  present  day. 

The  dialogue  went  on  somewhat  in  the  following 
fashion : — 

Bob  Fitzoffley  (enters  whistling).  The  top  of  the 
morning  to  thee,  .FRANK  !  What !  at  breakfast  al 
ready  ?  At  chocolate  and  the  Morning  Post,  like  a 
dowager  of  sixty  ?  SLANG  !  (he  pokes  the  servant 
with  his  cane)  What  has  come  to  thy  master,  thou 
Prince  of  Valets  !  thou  pattern  of  Slaveys !  thou 
swiftest  of  Mercuries  !  Has  the  HONOURABLE  FRAN 
CIS  NIGHTRAKE  lost  his  heart,  or  his  head,  or  his 
health? 

Frank  (laying  down  the  paper).  BOB,  BOB,  I 
have  lost  all  three  !  I  have  lost  my  health,  BOB, 
with  thee  and  thy  like,  over  the  Burgundy  at  the 
Club  ;  I  have  lost  my  head,  BOB,  with  thinking  how 
I  shall  pay  my  debts  ;  and  I  have  lost  my  heart,  BOB, 
oh,  to  such  a  creature  ! 

Frank.  A  VENUS,  of  course. 

Slang.  With  the  presence  of  JUNO. 

Bob.  And  the  modesty  of  MINERVA. 

Frank.  And  the  coldness  of  DIANA  ! 

Bob.  Pish  !  What  a  sigh  is  that  about  a  woman  ! 
Thou  shalt  be  ENDYMION,  the  night-rake  of  old :  and 
conquer  this  shy  goddess.  Hey,  SLANG  ? 


254  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

Herewith  SLANG  takes  the  lead  of  the  conversa 
tion,  and  propounds  a  plot  for  running  away  with  the 
heiress  ;  and  I  could  not  help  remarking  how  like  the 
comedy  was  to  life — how  the  gentlemen  always  say 
"  thou,"  and  "  prythee,"  and  "  go  to,"  and  talk  about 
Heathen  goddesses,  to  each  other  ;  how  their  servants 
are  always  their  particular  intimates  ;  how,  when  there 
is  serious  love-making  between  a  gentleman  and  lady, 
a  comic  attachment  invariably  springs  up  between 
the  valet  and  waiting-maid  of  each ;  how  LADY  GRACE 
GADABOUT,  when  she  calls  upon  BOSE  RINGDOVE  to 
pay  a  morning  visit,  appears  in  a  low  satin  dress,  with 
jewels  in  her  hair ;  how  SAUCEBOX,  her  attendant, 
wears  diamond  brooches,  and  rings  on  all  her  fingers : 
while  MRS.  TALLYHO.  on  the  other  hand,  transacts  all 
the  business  of  life  in  a  riding-habit,  and  always 
points  her  jokes  by  a  cut  of  the  whip. 

This  playfulness  produced  a  roar  all  over  the 
house,  whenever  it  was  repeated,  and  always  made 
our  little  friends  clap  their  hands  and  shout  in  chorus. 

Like  that  bon-vivant  who  envied  the  beggars 
staring  into  the  cook-shop  windows,  and  wished  he 
could  be  hungry,  I  envied  the  boys,  and  wished  I 
could  laugh,  very  much.  In  the  last  Act,  I  remem 
ber — for  it  is  now  very  nearly  a  week  ago — every 
body  took  refuge  either  in  a  secret  door,  or  behind  a 
screen  or  curtain,  or  under  a  table,  or  up  a  chimney ; 
and  the  house  roared  as  each  person  came  out  from  his 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  255 

place  of  concealment.  And  the  old  fellow  in  top- 
boots,  joining  the  hands  of  the  young  couple  (Frrz- 
OFFLEY.  of  course,  pairing  off  with  the  widow),  gave 
them  his  blessing,  and  thirty  thousand  pounds. 

And  ah,  ye  gods  !  if  I  wished  before  that  Come 
dies  were  like  life,  how  I  wished  that  life  was  like 
Comedies  !  Whereon,  the  drop  fell ;  and  AUGUSTUS, 
clapping  to  the  opera-glass,  jumped  up,  crying — 
"  Hurray  !  now  for  the  Pantomime." 


III. 

THE  composer  of  the  Overture  of  the  New  Grand 
Comic  Christmas  Pantomime,  Harlequin  and  the 
Fairy  of  the  Spangled  Pocket-handkerchief,  or  the 
Prince  of  the  Enchanted  Nose,  arrayed  in  a  bran  new 
Christmas  suit,  with  his  wristbands  and  collar  turned 
elegantly  over  his  cuffs  and  embroidered  satin  tie, 
takes  a  place  at  his  desk,  waves  his  stick,  and  away 
the  Pantomime  Overture  begins. 

I  pity  a  man  who  can't  appreciate  a  Pantomime 
Overture.  Children  do  not  like  it :  they  say,  "  Hang 
it,  I  wish  the  Pantomime  would  begin  :  "  but  for  us  it 
is  always  a  pleasant  moment  of  reflection  and  enjoy 
ment.  It  is  not  difficult  music  to  understand,  like 
that  of  your  MENDELSSOHNS  and  BEETHOVENS,  whose 
symphonies  and  sonatas  MRS.  SPEC  states  must  be 
heard  a  score  of  times  before  you  can  comprehend 


256  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

them.  But  of  the  proper  Pantomime-music  I  am  a 
delighted  connoisseur.  Perhaps  it  is  because  you 
meet  so  many  old  friends  in  these  compositions 
consorting  together  in  the  queerest  manner,  and  occa 
sioning  numberless  pleasant  surprises.  Hark  !  there 
goes  "  Old  Dan  Tucker  "  wandering  into  the  "  Groves 
of  Blarney ; "  our  friends  the  "  Scots  wha  hoe  wi1 
Wallace  bled  "  march  rapidly  down  "  Wapping  Old 
Stairs"  from  which  the  "  Figlia  del  Reggimento " 
comes  bounding  briskly,  when  she  is  met,  embraced, 
and  carried  off  by  "  Billy  Taylor^  that  brisk  young 
fellow. 

All  this  while  you  are  thinking  with  a  faint,  sickly 
kind  of  hope,  that  perhaps  the  Pantomime  may  be  a 
good  one ;  something  like  Harlequin  and  the  Golden 
Orange  Tree,  which  you  recellect  in  your  youth ; 
something  like  Fortunio:  that  marvellous  and  delight 
ful  piece  of  buffoonery,  which  realised  the  most  gor 
geous  visions  of  the  absurd.  You  may  be  happy, 
perchance  :  a  glimpse  of  the  old  days  may  come  back 
to  you.  Lives  there  the  man  with  soul  so  dead,  the 
being  ever  so  blase  and  travel-worn,  who  does  not  feel 
some  shock  and  thrill  still  ?  Just  at  that  moment 
when  the  bell  (the  dear  and  familiar  bell  of  your 
youth)  begins  to  tingle,  and  the  curtain  to  rise,  and 
the  large  shoes  and  ankles,  the  flesh-coloured  leggings, 
the  crumpled  knees,  the  gorgeous  robes  and  masks 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  257 

finally,  of  the  actors  ranged  on  the  stage   to   shout 
the  opening  chorus. 

All  round  the  house  you  hear  a  great  gasping 
a-ha-a  from  a  thousand  children's  throats.  Enjoy 
ment  is  going  to  give  place  to  Hope.  Desire  is  about 
to  be  realised.  0  you  blind  little  brats  !  Clap  your 
hands,  and  cram  over  the  boxes,  and  open  your  eyes 
with  happy  wonder  !  Clap  your  hands  now.  In  three 
weeks  more,  the  REVEREND  DOCTOR  SWISHTAIL  ex 
pects  the  return  of  his  young  friends  to  Sugarcane 

House. 

#         #         *         #          *         *         *        * 

King  Beak,  Emperor  of  the  Romans,  having  in 
vited  all  the  neighbouring  Princes,  Fairies,  and  En 
chanters  to  the  feast  at  which  he  celebrated  the  mar 
riage  of  his  only  son,  Prince  Aquiline,  unluckily 
gave  the  liver-wing  of  the  fowl  which  he  was  carving 
to  the  Prince's  godmother,  the  Fairy  Bandanna 
while  he  put  the  gizzard-pinion  on  the  plate  of  the 
Enchanter  Gorgibus,  King  of  the  Maraschino  Moun 
tains,  and  father  of  the  Princess  Rosolia,  to  whom 
the  Prince  was  affianced. 

The  outraged  Gorgibus  rose  from  table,  in  a 
fury,  smashed  his  plate  of  chicken  over  the  head  of 
King  Beak's  Chamberlain,  and  wished  that  Prince 
Aquiline's  nose  might  grow  on  the  instant  as  long  as 
the  sausage  before  him. 

It  did  so  ;    the  screaming  Princess  rushed  away 


258  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

from  her  bridegroom,  and  her  father,  breaking  off 
the  match  with  the  House  of  Beak,  ordered  his 
daughter  to  be  carried  in  his  sedan  by  the  two  giant- 
porters  Gor  and  Gogstay,  to  his  castle  in  the  Juniper 
Forest,  by  the  side  of  the  bitter  waters  of  the  Absin- 
thine  Lake,  whither,  after  upsetting  the  marriage- 
tables,  and  flooring  King  Beak  in  a  single  combat, 
he  himself  repaired. 

The  latter  monarch  could  not  bear  to  see  or  even 
to  hear  his  disfigured  son. 

When  the  Prince  Aquiline  blew  his  unfortunate 
and  monstrous  nose,  the  windows  of  his  father's  pal 
ace  broke  ;  the  locks  of  the  doors  started ;  the  dishes 
and  glasses  of  the  King's  banquet  jingled  and 
smashed  as  they  do  on  board  a  steamboat  in  a  storm ; 
the  liquor  turned  sour  ;  the  Chancellor's  wig  started 
off  his  head,  and  the  Prince's  royal  father,  disgusted 
with  his  son's  appearance,  drove  him  forth  from  his 
palace,  and  banished  him  the  kingdom. 

Life  was  a  burthen  to  him  on  account  of  that 
nose.  He  fled  from  a  world  in  which  he  was  ashamed 
to  show  it,  and  would  have  preferred  a  perfect  soli 
tude,  but  that  he  was  obliged  to  engage  one  faithful 
attendant  to  give  him  snuff  (his  only  consolation)  and 
to  keep  his  odious  nose  in  order. 

But  as  he  was  wandering  in  a  lonely  forest,  en 
tangling  his  miserable  trunk  in  the  thickets,  and  caus 
ing  the  birds  to  fly  scared  from  the  branches,  and  the 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  259 

lions,  stags,  and  foxes  to  sneak  away  in  terror  as  they 
heard  the  tremendous  booming  which  issued  from  the 
fated  Prince  whenever  he  had  occasion  to  use  his 
pocket-handkerchief,  the  Fairy  of  the  Bandanna  Isl 
ands  took  pity  on  him,  and,  descending  in  her  car 
drawn  by  doves,  gave  him  a  'kerchief  which  rendered 
him  invisible  whenever  he  placed  it  over  his  monstrous 
proboscis. 

Having  occasion  to  blow  his  nose  (which  he  was 
^bliged  to  do  pretty  frequently,  for  he  had  taken  cold 
while  lying  out  among  the  rocks  and  morasses  in  the 
rainy  miserable  nights,  so  that  the  peasants,  when 
they  heard  him  snoring  fitfully,  thought  that  storms 
were  abroad)  at  the  gates  of  a  castle  by  which  he 
was  passing,  the  door  burst  open,  and  the  Irish  Giant 
(afterwards  Clown,  indeed)  came  out.  and  wondering 
looked  about,  furious  to  see  no  one. 

The  Prince  entered  into  the  castle,  and  whom 
should  he  find  there  but  the  Princess  Rosalia,  still 
plunged  in  despair.  Her  father  snubbed  her  perpet 
ually.  "  I  wish  he  would  snub  me  !  "  exclaimed  the 
Prince,  pointing  to  his  own  monstrous  deformity.  In 
spite  of  his  misfortune,  she  still  remembered  her 
Prince.  "  Even  with  his  nose,"  the  faithful  Princess 
cried,  u  I  love  him  more  than  all  the  world  beside  !  " 

At  this  declaration  of  unalterable  fidelity,  the 
Prince  flung  away  his  handkerchief,  and  knelt  in  rap 
ture  at  the  Princess's  feet.  She  was  a  little  scared 


260  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

at  first  by  the  hideousness  of  the  distorted  being  be 
fore  her — but  what  will  not  woman's  faith  overcome  ? 
Hiding  her  head  on  his  shoulder  (and  so  losing  sight 
of  his  misfortune),  she  vowed  to  love  him  still  (in 
those  broken  verses  which  only  Princesses  in  Panto 
mimes  deliver). 

At  this  instant  King  Gwgibus,  the  Giants,  the 
King's  Household,  with  clubs  and  battle-axes,  rushed 
in.  Drawing  his  immense  scimetar,  and  seizing  the 
Prince  by  his  too-prominent  feature,  he  was  just  on 
the  point  of  sacrificing  him,  when — when,  I  need 
not  say,  the  Fairy  Bandanna  (Miss  BENDIGO),  in 
her  amaranthine  car  drawn  by  Paphian  doves,  ap 
peared  and  put  a  stop  to  the  massacre.  King  Gor- 
gibus  became  Pantaloon,  the  two  Griants  first  and 
second  Clowns,  and  the  Prince  and  Princess  (who 
had  been,  all  the  time  of  the  Fairy's  speech,  and  ac 
tually  while  under  their  father's  scimetar,  unhooking 
their  dresses)  became  the  most  elegant  Harlequin  and 
Columbine  that  I  have  seen  for  many  a  long  day. 
The  nose  flew  up  to  the  ceiling,  the  music  began  a 
jig,  and  the  two  Clowns,  after  saying  "  How  are 
you  ?  "  went  and  knocked  down  Pantaloon. 


IV. 

ON  the  conclusion  of  the  pantomime,  the  present 
memorialist  had  the  honour  to  conduct  the  ladies  under 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  261 

his  charge  to  the  portico  of  the  theatre,  where  the 
green  fly  was  in  waiting  to  receive  them.  The  driver 
was  not  more  inebriated  than  usual ;  the  young  page 
with  the  gold-knobbed  hat  was  there  to  protect  his 
mistresses  ;  and  though  the  chaperon  of  the  party 
certainly  invited  me  to  return  with  them  to  Bromp- 
ton  and  there  drink  tea,  the  proposal  was  made  in 
terms  so  faint,  and  the  refreshment  offered  was  so 
moderate,  that  I  declined  to  journey  six  miles  on  a 
cold  night  in  order  to  partake  of  such  a  meal.  The 
waterman  of  the  coach-stand,  who  had  made  himself 
conspicuous  by  bawling  out  for  MRS.  FEATHER'S  car 
riage,  was  importunate  with  me  to  give  him  sixpence 
for  pushing  the  ladies  into  the  vehicle.  But  it  was 
my  opinion  that  MRS.  FLATHER  ought  to  settle  that 
demand  ;  and  as,  while  the  fellow  was  urging  it,  she 
only  pulled  up  the  glass,  bidding  Cox's  man  to  drive 
on,  I  of  course  did  not  interfere.  In  vulgar  and  im 
moral  language  he  indicated,  as  usual,  his  discontent. 
I  treated  the  fellow  with  playful  and,  I  hope,  gentle 
manlike  satire. 

MASTER  JONES,  who  would  not  leave  the  box  in 
the  theatre  until  the  people  came  to  shroud  it  with 
brown-hollands,  (by  the  way,  to  be  the  last  person  in 
a  theatre — to  put  out  the  last  light — and  then  to  find 
one's  way  out  of  the  vast,  black,  lonely  place,  must 
require  a  very  courageous  heart) — MASTER  JONES, 
I  say,  had  previously  taken  leave  of  us,  putting  his 


262  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

arm  under  that  of  his  father's  footman,  who  had  been 
in  the  pit,  and  who  conducted  him  to  Russell  Square. 
I  heard  AUGUSTUS  proposing  to  have  oysters  as  they 
went  home,  though  he  had  twice  in  the  course  of  the 
performance  made  excursions  to  the  cake-room  of  the 
theatre,  where  he  had  partaken  of  oranges,  macaroons, 
apples,  and  ginger-beer. 

As  the  altercation  between  myself  and  the  link- 
man  was  going  on,  young  GRIGG  (brother  of  GRIGG 
of  the  Life  Guards,  himself  reading  for  the  Bar) 
came  up,  and  hooking  his  arm  into  mine,  desired  the 
man  to  leave  off  "  chaffing >?  me ;  asked  him  if  he 
would  take  a  bill  at  three  months  for  the  money  ; 
told  him  if  he  would  call  at  the  Horns  Tavern,  Ken- 
nington,  next  Tuesday  week,  he  would  find  sixpence 
there,  done  up  for  him  in  a  brown  paper  parcel ;  and 
quite  routed  my  opponent.  "  I  know  you,  MR. 
GRIGG,"  said  he  ;  "  you're  a  gentleman,  you  are :" 
and  so  retired,  leaving  the  victory  with  me. 

Young  MR.  GRIGG  is  one  of  those  young  bucks 
about  town,  who  goes  every  night  of  his  life  to  two 
Theatres,  to  the  Casino,  to  WEIPPERT'S  balls,  to  the 
Cafe  de  1'Haymarket,  to  BOB  SLOGGER'S,  the  boxing- 
house,  to  the  Harmonic  Meetings  at  the  Kidney  Cel 
lars,  and  other  places  of  fashionable  resort.  He 
knows  everybody  at  these  haunts  of  pleasure  ;  takes 
boxes  for  the  actors'  benefits  ;  has  the  word  from 
head-quarters  about  the  venue  of  the  fight  between 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  263 

Putney  Sambo  and  the  Tutbury  Pet ;  gets  up 
little  dinners  at  their  public-houses  ;  shoots  pigeons, 
fights  cocks,  plays  fives,  has  a  boat  on  the  river, 
and  a  room  at  RUMMER'S,  in  Conduit  Street, 
besides  his  Chambers  at  the  Temple,  where  his 
parents,  SIR  JOHN  and  LADY  GRIGG,  of  Portman 
Square,  and  Grigsby  Hall,  Yorkshire,  believe  that  he 
is  assiduously  occupied  in  studying  the  Law.  "  TOM 
applies  too  much,"  her  ladyship  says.  "  His  father 
was  obliged  to  remove  him  from  Cambridge  on  ac 
count  of  a  brain  fever  brought  on  by  hard  reading, 
and  in  consequence  of  the  jealousy  of  some  of  the 
collegians  ;  otherwise,  I  am  told,  he  must  have  been 
Senior  Wrangler,  and  seated  first  of  the  Tripod." 

"  I'm  going  to  begin  the  evening,"  said  this  inge 
nuous  young  fellow  ;  "  I've  only  been  at  the  Lowther 
Arcade,  WEIPPERT'S  hop,  and  the  billiard-rooms.  I 
just  toddled  in  for  half  an  hour  to  see  BROOKE  in 
Othello,  and  looked  in  for  a  few  minutes  behind  the 
scenes  at  the  Adelphi.  What  shall  be  the  next  re 
sort  of  pleasure,  SPEC,  my  elderly  juvenile  ?  Shall 
it  be  the  Sherry- Cobbler-Stall,  or  the  Cave  of  Har 
mony  ?  There's  some  prime  glee-singing  there." 

"  What !  is  the  old  Cave  of  Harmony  still  ex 
tant  ? "  I  asked.  "  I  have  not  been  there  these 
twenty  years."  And  memory  carried  me  back  to  the 
days  when  LIGHTSIDES,  of  Corpus,  myself,  and  little 
OAKS,  the  Johnian,  came  up  to  town  in  a  chaise-and- 


264  TRAVELS   IN   LONDON. 

four,  at  the  long  vacation  at  the  end  of  our  fresh 
man's  year,  ordered  turtle  and  venison  for  dinner  at 
the  Bedford,  blubbered  over  Black-eyed  Susan  at 
the  play,  and  then  finished  the  evening  at  that  very 
Harmonic  Cave,  where  the  famous  English  Improvi- 
satore  sang  with  such  prodigious  talent  that  we  asked 
him  down  to  stay  with  us  in  the  country.  SPURGIN, 
and  HAWKER,  the  fellow-commoner  of  our  College, 
I  remember  me,  were  at  the  Cave  too,  and  BARDOLPH, 
of  Brazennose.  Lord,  lord,  what  a  battle  and  strug 
gle  and  wear  and  tear  of  life  there  has  been  since 
then !  HAWKER  levanted,  and  SPURGIN  is  dead  these 
ten  years  ;  little  OAKS  is  a  whiskered  Captain  of 
Heavy  Dragoons,  who  cut  down  no  end  of  Sikhs  at 
Sobraon  ;  LIGHTSIDES  a  Tractarian  parson,  who  turns 
his  head  and  walks  another  way  when  we  meet ;  and 
your  humble  servant — well,  never  mind.  But  in  my 
spirit  I  saw  them — all  those  blooming  and  jovial 
young  boys — and  LIGHTSIDES,  with  a  cigar  in  his 
face,  and  a  bang-up  white  coat,  covered  with  mother- 
of-pearl  cheese-plates,  bellowing  out  for  "  First  and 
Second  Turn-out,"  as  our  yellow  post-chaise  came 
rattling  up  to  the  Inn  door  at  Ware. 

"  And  so  the  Cave  of  Harmony  is  open,"  I  said, 
looking  at  little  G-RIGG  with  a  sad  and  tender  inter 
est,  and  feeling  that  I  was  about  a  hundred  years 
old. 

"  1  believe  you,  my  baw-aw-oy ! "  said  he,  adopt- 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  265 

ing  the  tone  of  an  exceedingly  refined  and  popular 
actor,  whose  choral  and  comic  powers  render  him  a 
general  favourite. 

"  Does  BIVINS  keep  it  ?  "  I  asked,  in  a  voice  of 
profound  melancholy. 

"  Hoh  !  What  a  flat  you  are !  You  might  as 
well  ask  if  MRS.  SIDDONS  acted  Lady  Macbeth  to 
night,  and  if  QUEEN  ANNE'S  dead  or  not.  I  tell  you 
what,  SPEC,  my  boy — you're  getting  a  regular  old 
flat — fogy,  Sir,  a  positive  old  fogy.  How  the  deuce 
do  you  pretend  to  be  a  man  about  town,  and  not 
know  that  BIVINS  has  left  the  Cavern  ?  Law  bless 
you  !  Come  in  and  see  :  I  know  the  landlord — I'll 
introduce  you  to  him." 

This  was  an  offer  which  no  man  could  resist ;  and 
so  G-RIGG  and  I  went  through  the  Piazza,  and  down 
the  steps  of  that  well-remembered  place  of  convivial 
ity.  GTRIGG  knew  everybody  ;  wagged  his  head  in  at 
the  bar,  and  called  for  two  glasses  of  his  particular 
mixture ;  nodded  to  the  singers ;  winked  at  one 
friend — put  his  little  stick  against  his  nose  as  a  token 
of  recognition  to  another  ;  and  calling  the  waiter  by 
his  Christian  name,  poked  him  playfully  with  the 
end  of  his  cane,  and  asked  him  whether  he,  G-RIGG, 
should  have  a  lobster  kidney,  or  a  mashed  oyster  and 
scolloped  'taters,  or  a  poached  rabbit,  for  supper  ? 

The  room  was  full  of  young  rakish-looking  lads, 
with  a  dubious  sprinkling  of  us  middle-aged  youth. 
12 


266  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

and  stalwart  red-faced  fellows  from  the  country,  with 
whisky  noggins  before  them,  and  bent  upon  seeing 
life.  A  grand  piano  had  been  introduced  into  the 
apartment,  which  did  not  exist  in  the  old  days : 
otherwise,  all  was  as  of  yore — smoke  rising  from 
scores  of  human  chimneys,  waiters  bustling  about  with 
cigars  and  liquors  in  the  intervals  of  the  melody — 
and  the  President  of  the  meeting  (BiviNs  no  more) 
encouraging  gents  to  give  their  orders. 

Just  as  the  music  was  about  to  begin,  I  looked 
opposite  me,  and  there,  by  Heavens  !  sat  BARDOLPH, 
of  Brazennose,  only  a  little  more  purple,  and  a  few 
shades  more  dingy  than  he  used  to  look  twenty  years 
ago. 

V. 

"  LOOK  at  that  old  Greek  in  the  cloak  and  fur 
collar  opposite,"  said  my  friend  MR.  G-RIGG.  "  That 
chap  is  here  every  night.  They  call  him  LORD  FAR- 
INTOSH.  He  has  five  glasses  of  whisky-and-water  every 
night — seventeen  -  hundred  -  and  -  twenty  -  five  goes  of 
alcohol  in  a  year ;  we  totted  it  up  one  night  at  the 
bar.  JAMES  the  waiter  is  now  taking  number  three 
to  him.  He  don't  count  the  wine  he  has  had  at 
dinner."  Indeed,  JAMES  the  waiter,  knowing  the 
gentleman's  peculiarities,  as  soon  as  he  saw  MR.  BAR 
DOLPH' s  glass  nearly  empty,  brought  him  another 
noggin  and  a  jug  of  boiling  water  without  a  word. 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  267 

Memory  carried  me  instantaneously  back  to  the 
days  of  my  youth.  I  had  the  honour  of  being  at 
school  with  BARDOLPH  before  he  went  to  Brazennose  ; 
the  under  boys  used  to  look  up  at  him  from  afar  off, 
as  at  a  godlike  being.  He  was  one  of  the  head  boys 
of  the  school ;  a  prodigious  dandy  in  pigeon-hole 
trowsers,  ornamented  with  what  they  called  "  tucks  " 
in  front.  He  wore  a  ring,  leaving  the  little  finger,  on 
which  he  wore  the  jewel,  out  of  his  pocket,  in  which 
he  carried  the  rest  of  his  hand.  He  had  whiskers 
even  then ;  and  to  this  day  I  cannot  understand  why 
he  is  not  seven  feet  high.  When  he  shouted  out 
"Under  boy!."  we  small  ones  trembled  and  came  to 
him.  I  recollect  he  called  me  once  from  a  hundred 
yards  off,  and  I  came  up  in  a  tremor.  He  pointed 
to  the  ground. 

"Pick  up  my  hockey-stick,"  he  said,  pointing 
towards  it  with  the  hand  with  the  ring  on  !  He  had 
dropped  the  stick.  He  was  too  great,  wise,  and  good, 
to  stoop  to  pick  it  up  himself. 

He  got  the  silver  medal  for  Latin  Sapphics,  in 
the  year  POGRAM  was  gold  medallist.  When  he  went 
up  to  Oxford,  the  Head- Master,  the  Rev.  J.  FLIBBER, 
complimented  him  in  a  valedictory  speech,  made  him 
a  present  of  books,  and  prophesied  that  he  would  do 
great  things  at  the  University.  He  had  got  a  scholar 
ship,  and  won  a  prize-poem,  which  the  DOCTOR  read 
out  to  the  sixth  form  with  great  emotion.  It  was  on 


268  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

"  The  Recollections  of  Childhood,"  and  the  last  lines 


"  Qtialia  prospiciens  catulus  ferit  sethora  risu, 
Ipsaque  trans  lunae  coruua  vacca  salit." 

I  thought  of  these  things  rapidly,  gazing  on  the 
individual  before  me.  The  brilliant  young  fellow  of 
1815  (by-the-bye  it  was  the  Waterloo  year,  by  which 
some  people  may  remember  it  better  ;  but  at  school 
we  spoke  of  years,  as  "  POGRAM'S  year,"  "  TOKELY'S 
year,"  &c.) — there,  I  say,  sat  before  me  the  dashing 
young  buck  of  1815,  a  fat,  muzzy,  red-faced  old  man, 
in  a  battered  hat,  absorbing  whisky-and-water,  and 
half  listening  to  the  singing. 

A  wild,  long-haired  professional  gentleman  with  a 
fluty  voice,  and  with  his  shirt-collar  turned  down, 
began  to  sing  as  follows : — 

"WHEN  THE  GLOOM  IS  ON  THE  GLEN." 

"When  the  moonlight 's  on  the  mountain 

And  the  gloom  is  on  the  glen, 
At  the  cross  beside  the  fountain 

There  is  one  will  meet  thee  then. 
At  the  cross  beside  the  fountain ; 

Yes,  the  cross  beside  the  fountain, 
There  is  one  will  meet  thee  then ! 

[Down  goes  half  of  MR.  BARDOLPH'S   No.  3    Whitsky 
during  this  refrain.'] 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  269 

"I  have  braved,  since  first  we  met,  love, 

Many  a  danger  in  my  course  ; 
But  I  never  can  forget,  love, 

That  dear  fountain,  that  old  cross, 
Where,  her  mantle  shrouded  o'er  her — 

For  the  winds  were  chilly  then — 
First  I  met  my  LEONORA, 

When  the  gloom  was  on  the  glen, 

Yes,  I  met  my,  <fcc. 

[Another  gulp  and  almost  total  disappearance  of 
Whisky-go,  No.  3.] 

"  Many  a  clime  I've  ranged  since  then,  love, 

Many  a  land  I've  wandered  o'er ; 
But  a  valley  like  that  glen,  love, 

Half  so  dear  I  never  sor ! 
Ne'er  saw  maiden  fairer,  coyer, 

Than  wert  thou,  my  true  love,  when 
In  the  gloaming  first  I  saw  yer, 

In  the  gloaming  of  the  glen !  " 

BARDOLPH,  who  had  not  shown  the  least  symp 
toms  of  emotion  as  the  gentleman  with  the  fluty  voice 
performed  this  delectable  composition,  began  to  whack, 
whack,  whack  on  the  mahogany  with  his  pewter 
measure  at  the  conclusion  of  the  song,  wishing,  per 
haps,  to  show  that  the  noggin  was  empty  ;  in  which 
manner  JAMES,  the  waiter,  interpreted  the  signal,  for 
he  brought  MR.  BARDOLPH  another  supply  of  liquor. 

The  song,  words,  and  music,  composed  and  dedi- 


270  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

cated  to  CHARLES  BIVINS,  ESQUIRE,  by  FREDERIC 
SNAPE,  and  ornamented  with  a  picture  of  a  young 
lady,  with  large  eyes  and  short  petticoats,  leaning  at 
a,  stone  cross  by  a  fountain,  was  now  handed  about 
the  room  by  a  waiter,  and  any  gentleman  was  at 
liberty  to  purchase  it  for  half-a-crown.  The  man  did 
not  offer  the  song  to  BARDOLPH  ;  he  was  too  old  a 
hand. 

After  a  pause,  the  president  of  the  musical  gents 
cried  out  for  silence  again,  and  then  stated  to  tne 
company  that  MR.  HOFF  would  sing  "  The  Red 
Flag"  which  announcement  was  received  by  the 
Society  with  immense  applause,  and  MR.  HOFF,  a 
gentleman  whom  I  remember  to  have  seen  exceed 
ingly  unwell  on  board  a  Gravesend  steamer,  began 
the  following  terrific  ballad : — 

"THE  KED   FLAG." 

"  "Where  the  quivering  lightning  flings 

His  arrows  from  out  the  clouds, 
And  the  howling  tempest  sings, 

And  whistles  among  the  shrouds, 
'Tis  pleasant,  'tis  pleasant  to  ride 

Along  the  foaming  brine — 
Wilt  be  the  Rover's  bride  ? 

Wilt  follow  him,  lady  mine  ? 

Hurrah ! 
For  the  bonny,  bonny  brine. 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  271 

"  Amidst  the  storm  and  rack, 

You  shall  see  our  galley  pass, 
As  a  serpent,  lithe  and  black, 

Glides  through  the  waving  grass ; 
As  the  vulture,  swift  and  dark, 

Down  on  the  ring-dove  flies, 
You  shall  see  the  Rover's  bark  ' 

Swoop  down  upon  his  prize. 

Hurrah ! 
For  the  bonny,  bonny  prize. 

"  Over  her  sides  we  dash, 

"We  gallop  across  her  deck — 
Ha !  there's  a  ghastly  gash 

On  the  merchant-captain's  neck ! 
Well  shot,  well  shot,  old  NED  ! 

"Well  struck,  well  struck,  black  JAMES  ! 
Our  arms  are  red,  and  our  foes  are  dead, 

And  we  leave  a  ship  in  flames ! 

Hurrah ! 
For  the  bonny,  bonny  flames !  " 

Frantic  shouts  of  applause  and  encore  hailed  the 
atrocious  sentiments  conveyed  by  MR.  HOFF  in  this 
ballad,  from  every  body  except  BARDOLPH,  who  sat 
muzzy  and  unmoved,  and  only,  winked  to  the  waiter 
to  bring  him  some  more  whisky. 

VI. 

WHEN  the  piratical  ballad  of  MR.  HOFF  was   con 
cluded,  a  simple  and  quiet-looking  young  gentleman 


272  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

performed  a  comic  song,  in  a  way  which,  I  must  con 
fess,  inspired  me  with  the  utmost  melancholy. 
Seated  at  the  table  along  with  the  other  professional 
gents,  this  young  gentleman  was  in  no  wise  to  be 
distinguished  from  any  other  young  man  of  fashion : 
he  has  a  thin,  handsome,  and  rather  sad  countenance ; 
and  appears  to  be  a  perfectly  sober  and  meritorious 
young  man.  But  suddenly  (and  I  daresay  every 
night  of  his  life)  he  pulls  a  little  flexible,  grey  coun 
tryman's  hat  out  of  his  pocket,  and  the  moment  he 
has  put  it  on,  his  face  assumes  an  expression  of  un 
utterable  vacuity  and  folly,  his  eyes  goggle  round 
savage,  and  his  mouth  stretches  almost  to  his  ears, 
and  he  begins  to  sing  a  rustic  song. 

The  battle-song  and  the  sentimental  ballad  al 
ready  published  are,  I  trust,  sufficiently  foolish,  and 
fair  specimens  of  the  class  of  poetry  to  which  they 
belong ;  but  the  folly  of  the  comic  country  song  was 
so  great  and  matchless,  that  I  am  not  going  to  com 
pete  for  a  moment  with  the  author,  or  to  venture  to 
attempt  anything  like  his  style  of  composition.  It 
was  something  about  a  man  going  a  coorting  MOLLY, 
and  "  feayther,"  and  "  kyows,"  and  "  peegs,"  and  other 
rustic  produce.  The  idiotic  verse  was  interspersed 
with  spoken  passages,  of  corresponding  imbecility. 
For  the  time  during  which  MR.  GRINSBY  performed 
this  piece,  he  consented  to  abnegate  altogether  his 
claim  to  be  considered  as  a  reasonable  being ;  ut- 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  273 

terly  to  debase  himself,  in  order  to  make  the  com 
pany  laugh  ;  and  to  forget  the  rank,  dignity,  and 
privileges  of  a  man. 

His  song  made  me  so  profoundly  wretched  that 
little  G-RIGG,  remarking  my  depression,  declared  I 
was  as  slow  as  a  Parliamentary  train.  I  was  glad 
they  didn't  have  the  song  over  again.  When  it  was 
done,  MR.  G-RINSBY  put  his  little  grey  hat  in  his 
pocket,  the  maniacal  grin  subsided  from  his  features, 
and  he  sate  down  with  his  naturally  sad  and  rather 
handsome  young  countenance. 

0,  G-RINSBY,  thinks  I,  what  a  number  of  people  and 
things  in  this  world  do  you  represent !  Though  we 
weary  listening  to  you,  we  may  moralise  over  you ; 
though  you  sing  a  foolish,witless  song,  you  poor,  young, 
melancholy  jester,  there  is  some  good  in  it  that  may  be 
had  for  the  seeking.  Perhaps  that  lad  has  a  family  at 
home  dependent  on  his  grinning :  I  may  entertain  a 
reasonable  hope  that  he  has  despair  in  his  heart ;  a 
complete  notion  of  the  folly  of  the  business  in  which 
he  is  engaged ;  a  contempt  for  the  fools  laughing  and 
guffawing  round  about  at  his  miserable  jokes ;  and  a 
perfect  weariness  of  mind  at  their  original  dulness 
and  continued  repetition.  What  a  sinking  of  spirit 
must  come  over  that  young  man,  quiet  in  his  cham 
ber  or  family,  orderly  and  sensible  like  other  mortals, 
when  the  thought  of  torn-fool  hour  comes  across  him, 
and  that  at  a  certain  time  that  night,  whatever  may 
12* 


274  TRAVELS   IN    LONDON. 

be  his  health,  or  distaste,  or  mood  of  mind  or  body, 
there  he  must  be,  at  a  table  at  the  Cave  of  Harmony, 
littering  insane  ballads,  with  an  idiotic  grin  on  his 
face,  and  hat  on  his  head. 

To  suppose  that  GRINSBY  has  any  personal  pleas 
ure  in  that  song,  would  be  to  have  too  low  an  opinion 
of  human  nature  :  to  imagine  that  the  applauses  of 
the  multitude  of  the  frequenters  of  the  Cave  tickled 
his  vanity,  or  are  bestowed  upon  him  deservedly — 
would  be,  I  say,  to  think  too  hardly  of  him.  Look 
at  him.  He  sits  there  quite  a  quiet,  orderly  young 
fellow.  Mark  with  what  an  abstracted,  sad  air  he 
joins  in  the  chorus  of  MR.  SNAPE'S  second  song, "  The 
Minaret's  bells  o'er  the  Bosphorus  toll,"  and  having 
applauded  his  comrade  at  the  end  of  the  song  (as  I 
have  remarked  these  poor  gentlemen  always  do), 
moodily  resumes  the  stump  of  his  cigar. 

"  I  wonder,  my  dear  GRIGG,  how  many  men  there 
are  in  the  City  who  follow  a  similar  profession  to 
GRINSBY'S.  What  a  number  of  poor  rogues,  wits  in 
their  circle,  or  bilious,  or  in  debt,  or  henpecked,  or 
otherwise  miserable  in  their  private  circumstances, 
come  grinning  out  to  dinner  of  a  night,  and  laugh 
and  crack,  and  let  off  their  good  stories  like  yonder 
professional  funny  fellow.  Why,  I  once  went  into 
the  room  of  that  famous  dinner-party  conversational 
ist  and  wit.  HORSELEY  COLLARD  ;  and  whilst  he  was 
in  his  dressing-room  arranging  his  wig,  just  looked 


275 

over  the  books  on  the  table  before  his  sofa.  There 
were  l  BURTON'S  Anatomy '  for  the  quotations,  three 
of  which  he  let  off  that  very  night ;  '  SPENCE'S  Lite 
rary  Anecdotes.'  of  which  he  fortuitously  introduced 
a  couple  in  the  course  of  the  evening ;  '  BAKER'S 
Chronicle ;'  the  last  new  Novel,  and  a  book  of  Meta 
physics,  every  one  of  which  I  heard  him  quote,  be 
sides  four  stories  out  of  his  common-place  book,  at 
which  I  took  a  peep  under  the  pillow.  He  was  like 
GRINSBY."  Who  isn't  like  GRINSBY  in  life  ?  thought 
I  to  myself,  examining  that  young  fellow. 

"  When  BAWLER  goes  down  to  the  House  of  Com 
mons  from  a  meeting  with  his  creditors,  and,  having 
been  a  bankrupt  a  month  before,  becomes  a  patriot 
all  of  a  sudden,  and  pours  you  out  an  intensely  in 
teresting  speech  upon  the  West  Indies,  or  the  Win 
dow  Tax,  he  is  no  better  than  the  poor  gin-and-water 
practitioner  yonder,  and  performs  in  his  Cave,  as 
GRINSBY  in  his  under  the  Piazza. 

"  When  SERGEANT  BLUEBAG  fires  into  a  witness, 
or  performs  a  jocular  or  a  pathetic  speech  to  a 
jury,  in  what  is  he  better  than  GRINSBY,  except  in  so 
far  as  the  amount  of  gain  goes  ? — than  poor  GRINSBY 
rapping  at  the  table  and  cutting  professional  jokes, 
at  half-a-pint-of-whisky  fee  ? 

"  When  TIGHTROPE,  the  celebrated  literary  genius, 
sits  down  to  write  and  laugh — with  the  children  very 
likely  ill  at  home — with  a  strong  personal  desire  to 


276  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

write  a  tragedy  or  a  sermon,  with  his  wife  scolding 
him,  his  head  racking  with  pain,  his  mother-in-law 
making  a  noise  at  his  ears,  and  telling  him  that  he  is 
a  heartless  and  abandoned  ruffian,  his  tailor  in  the 
passage,  vowing  that  he  will  not  quit  that  place  until 
his  little  bill  is  settled — when,  I  say,  TIGHTROPE 
writes  off,  under  the  most  miserable  private  circum 
stances,  a  brilliant  funny  article,  in  how  much  is  he 
morally  superior  to  my  friend  GRINSBY?  When 
LORD  COLCHICTJM  stands  bowing  and  smiling  before 
his  sovereign,  with  gout  in  his  toes  and  grief  in  his 
heart ;  when  parsons  in  the  pulpit — when  editors  at 
their  desks — forget  their  natural  griefs,  pleasures, 
opinions,  to  go  through  the  business  of  life,  the 
masquerade  of  existence,  in  what  are  they  better 
than  GRINSBY  yonder,  who  has  similarly  to  perform 
his  buffooning  ?  " 

As  I  was  continuing  in  this  moral  and  interroga 
tory  mood — no  doubt  boring  poor  little  GRIGG,  who 
came  to  the  Cave  for  pleasure,  and  not  for  philo 
sophical  discourse — MR.  BARDOLPH  opposite  caught 
a  sight  of  the  present  writer  through  the  fumes  of  the 
cigars,  and  came  across  to  our  table,  holding  his 
fourth  glass  of  toddy  in  his  hand.  He  held  out  the 
other  to  me  :  it  was  hot,  and  gouty,  and  not  particu 
larly  clean. 

"Deuced  queer  place  this,  hey?"  said  he,  pre 
tending  to  survey  it  with  the  air  of  a  stranger.  "  I 


A  NIGHT'S  PLEASURE.  277 

come  here  every  now  and  then,  on  my  way  home  to 
Lincoln's  Inn — from — from  parties  at  the  other  end 
of  the  town.  It  is  frequented  by  a  parcel  of  queer 
people — low  shop-boys  and  attorneys'  clerks ;  but 
hang  it,  Sir,  they  know  a  gentleman  when  they  see 
one,  and  not  one  of  those  fellows  would  dare  to  speak 
to  me — no,  not  one  of  'em,  by  Jove — if  I  didn't  ad 
dress  him  first,  by  Jove  !  I  don't  suppose  there's  a 
man  in  this  room  could  construe  a  page  in  the  com- 
,  monest  Greek  book,  SPEC.  You  heard  that  donkey 
singing  about '  LEONORAR  '  and  *  before  her  ?  '  How 
FLIBBER  would  have  given  it  to  us  for  such  rhymes, 
hey  ?  A  parcel  of  ignoramuses !  but  hang  it,  Sir, 
they  do  know  a  gentleman  !  "  And  here  he  winked 
at  me  with  a  vinous  bloodshot  eye,  as  much  as  to  in 
timate  that  he  was  infinitely  superior  to  every  person 
in  the  room. 

Now  this  BARDOLPH,  having  had  the  ill-luck  to 
get  a  fellowship,  and  subsequently  a  small  private 
fortune,  has  done  nothing  since  the  year  1820  but 
get  drunk  and  read  Greek.  He  despises  every  man 
who  does  not  know  that  language  (so  that  you  and  I, 
my  dear  Sir,  come  in  for  a  fair  share  of  his  con 
tempt).  He  can  still  put  a  slang  song  into  Greek 
Iambics,  or  turn  a  police  report  into  the  language  of 
TACITUS  or  HERODOTUS  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  see  what 
accomplishment  beyond  this  the  boozy  old  mortal 
possesses.  He  spends  nearly  a  third  part  of  his  life 


278  TRAVELS    IN    LONDON. 

aiid  income  at  his  dinner,  or  on  his  whisky  at  a 
tavern ;  more  than  another  third  portion  is  spent  in 
bed.  It  is  past  noon  before  he  gets  up  to  breakfast, 
and  to  spell  over  the  Times,  which  business  of  the 
day  being  completed,  it  is  time  for  him  to  dress  and 
take  his  walk  to  the  club  to  dinner.  He  scorns  a 
man  who  puts  his  h's  in  the  wrong  place,  and  spits  at 
a  human  being  who  has  not  had  a  University  educa 
tion.  And  yet  I  am  sure  that  bustling  waiter  push 
ing  about  with  a  bumper  of  cigars  ;  that  tallow-faced 
young  comic  singer ;  yonder  harmless  and  happy 
Snobs,  enjoying  the  conviviality  of  the  evening  (and 
all  the  songs  are  quite  modest  now,  not  like  the  ribald 
old  ditties  which  they  used  to  sing  in  former  days), 
are  more  useful,  more  honourable,  and  more  worthy 
men,  than  that  whiskyfied  old  scholar  who  looks  down 
upon  them  and  their  like. 

He  said  he  would  have  a  sixth  glass  if  we  would 
stop :  but  we  didn't ;  and  he  took  his  sixth  glass 
without  us.  My  melancholy  young  friend  had  begun 
another  comic  song,  and  I  could  bear  it  no  more. 
The  market  carts  were  rattling  into  Covent  Garden ; 
and  the  illuminated  clock  marked  all  sorts  of  small 
hours  as  we  concluded  this  night's  pleasure. 


GOING  TO  SEE  A  MAN  HANGED. 

JULY,  1840. 

X ,  who  had  voted  with  MR.  EWART  for  the 

abolition  of  the  punishment  of  death,  was  anxious  to 
see  the  effect  on  the  public  mind  of  an  execution,  and 
asked  me  to  accompany  him  to  see  COURVOISIER 
killed.  We  had  not  the  advantage  of  a  sheriff's 
order,  like  the  "  six  hundred  noblemen  and  gentle 
men"  who  were  admitted  within  the  walls  of  the 
prison  ;  but  determined  to  mingle  with  the  crowd  at 
the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  and  take  up  our  positions  at 
a  very  early  hour. 

As  I  was  to  rise  at  three  in  the  morning,  I  went 
to  bed  at  ten,  thinking  that  five  hours'  sleep  would 
be  amply  sufficient  to  brace  me  against  the  fatigues 
of  the  coming  day.  But,  as  might  have  been  ex 
pected,  the  event  of  the  morrow  was  perpetually  before 
my  eyes  through  the  night,  and  kept  them  wide  open. 
I  heard  all  the  clocks  in  the  neighbourhood  chime 
the  hours  in  succession  ;  a  dog  from  some  court  hard 


280  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

by  kept  up  a  pitiful  howling  ;  at  one  o'clock,  a  cock 
set  up  a  feeble,  melancholy  crowing  ;  shortly  after 
two,  the  daylight  came  peeping  grey  through  the 

window-shutters ;  and  by  the  time  that  X arrived, 

in  fulfilment  of  his  promise,  I  had  been  asleep  about 
half  an  hour.  He.  more  wise,  had  not  gone  to  rest 
at  all,  but  had  remained  up  all  night  at  the  Club, 
along  with  DASH  and  two  or  three  more.  DASH  is 
one  of  the  most  eminent  wits  in  London,  and  had 
kept  the  company  merry  all  night  with  appropriate 
jokes  about  the  coming  event.  It  is  curious  that  a 
murder  is  a  great  inspirer  of  jokes.  We  all  like  to 
laugh  and  have  our  fling  about  it ;  there  is  a  certain 
grim  pleasure  in  the  circumstance — a  perpetual  jing 
ling  antithesis  between  life  and  death,  that  is  sure  of 
its  effect. 

In  mansion  or  garret,  on  down  or  straw,  sur 
rounded  by  weeping  friends  and  solemn  oily  doctors, 
or  tossing  unheeded  upon  scanty  hospital  beds,  there 
were  many  people  in  this  great  city  to  whom  that 
Sunday  night  was  to  be  the  last  of  any  that  they 
should  pass  on  earth  here.  In  the  course  of  half-a- 
dozen  dark,  wakeful  hours,  one  had  leisure  to  think 
of  these  (and  a  little,  too,  of  that  certain  supreme  night, 
that  shall  come  at  one  time  or  other,  when  he  who 
writes  shall  be  stretched  upon  the  last  bed,  prostrate 
in  the  last  struggle,  taking  the  last  look  of  dear  faces 
that  have  cheered  us  here,  and  lingering — one  mo- 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  281 


ment  more — ere  we  part  for  the  tremendous  journey) ; 
but,  chiefly,  I  could  not  help  thinking,  as  each  clock 
sounded,  what  is  he  doing  now? — has  he  heard  it  in 
his  little  room  in  Newgate  yonder  ?  Eleven  o'clock. 
He  has  been  writing  until  now.  The  gaoler  says  he 
is  a  pleasant  man  enough  to  be  with  ;  but  he  can  hold 
out  no  longer,  and  is  very  weary.  "Wake  me  at 
four,"  says  he,  "for  I  have  still  much  to  put  down." 
From  eleven  to  twelve  the  gaoler  hears  how  he  is 
grinding  his  teeth  in  his  sleep.  At  twelve  he  is  up 
in  his  bed,  and  asks,  "  Is  it  the  time  ?  "  He  has 
plenty  more  time  yet  for  sleep ;  and  he  sleeps,  and 
the  bells  go  on  tolling.  Seven  hours  more — five 
hours  more.  Many  a  carriage  is  clattering  through 
the  streets,  bringing  ladies  away  from  evening  parties ; 
many  bachelors  are  reeling  home  after  a  jolly  night ; 
Covent  Garden  is  alive  ;  and  the  light  coming  through 
the  cell-window  turns  the  gaoler's  candle  pale.  Four 
hours  more  !  "  COURVOISIER,"  says  the  gaoler,  shaking 
him,  "  it's  four  o'clock  now,  and  I've  woke  you,  as 
you  told  me  ;  but  there's  no  call  for  you  to  to  get  up 
yet"  The  poor  wretch  leaves  his  bed,  however,  and 
makes  his  last  toilet ;  and  then  falls  to  writing,  to 
tell  the  world  how  he  did  the  crime  for  which  he  has 
suffered.  This  time  he  will  tell  the  truth,  and  the 
whole  truth.  They  bring  him  his  breakfast  "from 
the  coffee-shop  opposite — tea,  coffee,  and  thin  bread 
and  butter."  He  will  take  nothing,  however,  but  goes 


282  GOING   TO    SEE    A   MAN   HANGED. 

on  writing.  He  has  to  write  to  his  mother — the 
pious  mother  far  away  in  his  own  country — who 
reared  him  and  loved  him  ;  and  even  now  has  sent 
him  her  forgiveness  and  her  blessing.  He  finishes 
his  memorials  and  letters,  and  makes  his  will,  dis 
posing  of  his  little  miserable  property  of  books  and 
tracts  that  pious  people  have  furnished  him  with. 
uCe  6  Juillet,  1840.  Francois  Benjamin  Courvoi- 
sier  vous  donne  ceci,  mon  ami,  pour  souvenir.'1''  He 
has  a  token  for  his  dear  friend  the  gaoler ;  another 
for  his  dear  friend  the  under-sheriff.  As  the  day  of 
the  convict's  death  draws  nigh,  it  is  painful  to  see 
how  he  fastens  upon  every  body  who  approaches  him, 
how  pitifully  he  clings  to  them  and  loves  them. 

While  these  things  are  going  on  within  the 
prison  (with  which  we  are  made  accurately  ac 
quainted  by  the  copious  chronicles  of  such  events 

which  are  published  subsequently),  X 's  carriage 

has  driven  up  to  the  door  of  my  lodgings,  and  we 
have  partaken  of  an  elegant  disjeune  that  has  been 
prepared  for  the  occasion.  A  cup  of  coffee  at  half- 
past  three  in  the  morning  is  uncommonly  pleasant ; 

and  X enlivens  us  with   the  repetition  of  the 

jokes  that  DASH  has  just  been  making.  Admirable, 
certainly — they  must  have  had  a  merry  night  of  it, 
that's  clear ;  and  we  stoutly  debate  whether,  when 
one  has  to  get  up  so  early  in  the  morning,  it  is  best 
to  have  an  hour  or  two  of  sleep,  or  wait  and  go  to 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  283 

bed  afterwards  at  the  end  of  the  day's  work.  That 
fowl  is  extraordinarily  tough — the  wing,  even,  is  as 
hard  as  a  board  ;  a  slight  disappointment,  for  there  is 
nothing  else  for  breakfast.  "  Will  any  gentleman 
have  some  sherry  and  soda-water  before  he  sets  out? 
It  clears  the  brains  famously."  Thus  primed,  the 
party  sets  out.  The  coachman  has  dropped  asleep 
on  the  box,  and  wakes  up  wildly  as  the  hall-door 
opens.  It  is  just  four  o'clock.  About  this  very 
time  they  are  waking  up  poor — pshaw !  who  is  for  a 

cigar?      X does  not  smoke  himself;  but  vows 

and  protests,  in  the  kindest  way  in  the  world,  that  he 
does  not  care  in  the  least  for  the  new  drab-silk 

linings  of  his  carriage.     Z ,  who  smokes,  mounts 

however,  the  box.  "  DRIVE  TO  SNOW  HILL,"  says  the 
owner  of  the  chariot.  The  policemen,  who  are  the 
only  people  in  the  street,  and  are  standing  by,  look 
knowing — they  know  what  it  means  well  enough. 

How  cool  and  clean  the  streets  look,  as  the 
carriage  startles  the  echoes  that  have  been  asleep  in 
the  corners  all  night.  Somebody  has  been  sweeping 
the  pavements  clean  in  the  night-time  surely ;  they 
would  not  soil  a  lady's  white  satin  shoes,  they  are  so 
dry  and  neat.  There  is  not  a  cloud  or  a-  breath  in 

the  air,  except  Z 's  cigar,  which  whiffs  off,  and 

soars  straight  upwards  in  volumes  of  white,  pure 
smoke.  The  trees  in  the  squares  look  bright  and 
green — as  bright  as  leaves  in  the  country  in  June. 


284  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

We  who  keep  late  hours  don't  know  the  beauty  of 
London  air  and  verdure  ;  in  the  early  morning  they 
are  delightful — the  most  fresh  and  lively  companions 
possible.  But  they  cannot  bear  the  crowd  and  the 
bustle  of  mid-day.  You  don't  know  them  then — they 
are  no  longer  the  same  things.  We  have  come  to 
Gray's  Inn ;  there  is  actually  dew  upon  the  grass  in 
the  gardens ;  and  the  windows  of  the  stout  old  red 
houses  are  all  in  a  flame. 

As  we  enter  Holborn  the  town  grows  more  ani 
mated  ;  and  there  are  already  twice  as  many  people 
in  the  streets  as  you  see  at  mid-day  in  a  German 
residenz  or  an  English  provincial  town.  The  gin- 
shop  keepers  have  many  of  them  taken  their  shutters 
down,  and  many  persons  are  issuing  from  them  pipe 
in  hand.  Down  they  go  along  the  broad  bright 
street,  their  blue  shadows  marching  after  them  ;  for 
they  are  all  bound  the  same  way,  and  are  bent  like 
us  upon  seeing  the  hanging. 

It  is  twenty  minutes  past  four  as  we  pass  St. 
Sepulchre's :  by  this  time  many  hundred  people  are 
in  the  street,  and  many  more  are  coming  up  Snow 
Hill.  Before  us  lies  Newgate  Prison ;  but  some 
thing  a  great  deal  more  awful  to  look  at,  which  seizes 
the  eye  at  once,  and  makes  the  heart  beat,  is 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  285 


There  it  stands  black  and  ready,  jutting  out  from 
a  little  door  in  the  prison.  As  you  see  it,  you  feel  a 
kind  of  dumb  electric  shock,  which  causes  one  to 
start  a  little,  and  give  a  sort  of  gasp  for  breath.  The 
shock  is  over  in  a  second ;  and  presently  you  ex 
amine  the  object  before  you  with  a  certain  feeling  of 
complacent  curiosity.  At  least,  such  was  the  effect 
that  the  gallows  first  produced  upon  the  writer,  who 
is  trying  to  set  down  all  his  feelings  as  they  occurred, 
and  not  to  exaggerate  them  at  all. 

After  the  gallows-shock  had  subsided,  we  went 
down  into  the  crowd,  which  was  very  numerous,  but 
not  dense  as  yet.  It  was  evident  that  the  day's 
business  had  not  begun.  People  sauntered  up,  and 
formed  groups,  and  talked ;  the  new  comers  asking 
those  who  seemed  habitues  of  the  place  about  former 
executions ;  and  did  the  victim  hang  with  his  face 
towards  the  clock  or  towards  Ludgate  Hill  ?  and  had 
he  the  rope  round  his  neck  when  he  came  on  the 
scaffold,  or  was  it  put  on  by  Jack  Ketch  afterwards  ? 
and  had  Lord  W taken  a  window,  and  which 


286  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

was  he  ?     I  may  mention  the  noble  marquess's  name, 

as  he  was  not  at  the  exhibition.     A  pseudo  W 

was  pointed  out  in  an  opposite  window,  towards  whom 
all  the  people  in  our  neighbourhood  looked  eagerly, 
and  with  great  respect  too.  The  mob  seemed  to  have 
no  sort  of  ill-will  against  him,  but  sympathy  and  admi 
ration.  This  noble  lord's  personal  courage  and 
strength  has  won  the  plebs  over  to  him.  Perhaps 
/his  exploits  against  policemen  have  occasioned  some 

/  of  this   popularity  ;    for   the   mob   hates   them,   as 

\  children  the  schoolmaster. 

Throughout  the  whole  four  hours,  however,  the 
mob  was  extraordinarily  gentle  and  good-humoured. 
At  first  we  had  leisure  to  talk  to  the  people  about 

us ;  and  I  recommend  X 's  brother  senators  of 

both  sides  of  the  house  to  see  more  of  this  same 
people,  and  to  appreciate  them  better.  Honourable 
members  are  battling  and  struggling  in  the  House ; 
shouting,  yelling,  crowing,  hear -hearing,  pooh-pooh-ing, 
making  speeches  of  three  columns,  and  gaining  "  great 
Conservative  triumphs,"  or  "  signal  successes  of  the 
Reform  cause,"  as  the  case  may  be.  Three  hundred 
and  ten  gentlemen  of  good  fortune,  and  able  for  the 
most  part  to  quote  HORACE,  declare  solemnly  that 
unless  Sir  ROBERT  comes  in,  the  nation  is  ruined. 
Three  hundred  and  fifteen  on  the  other  side  swear 
their  great  gods  that  the  safety  of  the  empire  de 
pends  upon  Lord  JOHN  ;  and  to  this  end  they  quote 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  287 

HORACE  too.  I  declare  that  I  have  never  been  in  a 
great  London  crowd  without  thinking  of  what  they 
call  the  two  "  great  "  parties  in  England  with  wonder. 
For  which  of  the  two  great  leaders  do  these  people 
care,  I  pray  you  ?  When  Lord  STANLEY  withdrew  his 
Irish  bill  the  other  night,  were  they  in  transports  of 
joy,  like  worthy  persons  who  read  the  Globe  and  the 
Chronicle  ?  or  when  he  beat  the  ministers,  were 
they  wild  with  delight,  like  honest  gentlemen  who 
read  the  Post  and  the  Times  ?  Ask  yonder  ragged 
fellow,  who  has  evidently  frequented  debating-clubs, 
and  speaks  with  good  sense  and  shrewd  good-nature. 
He  cares  no  more  for  Lord  JOHN  than  he  does  for 
Sir  ROBERT  ;  and,  with  due  respect  be  it  said,  would 
mind  very  little  if  both  of  them  were  ushered  out  by 
Mr.  Ketch,  and  took  their  places  under  yonder  black 
beam.  What  are  the  two  great  parties  to  him,  and 
those  like  him  ?  Sheer  wind,  hollow  humbug,  absurd 
claptraps  ;  a  silly  mummery  of  dividing  and  debating, 
which  does  not  in  the  least,  however  it  may  turn, 
affect  his  condition.  It  has  been  so  ever  since  the 
happy  days  when  Whigs  and  Tories  began  ;  and  a 
pretty  pastime  no  doubt  it  is  for  both.  August 
parties,  great  balances  of  British  freedom  :  are  not 
the  two  sides  quite  as  active,  and  eager,  and  loud,  as 
at  their  very  birth,  and  ready  to  fight  for  place  as 
stoutly  as  ever  they  fought  before  ?  But,  lo  !  in  the 
meantime,  whilst  you  are  jangling  and  brawling  over 


288  GOING   TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

the  accounts,  Populus,  whose  estate  you  have  ad 
ministered  while  he  was  an  infant,  and  could  not 
take  care  of  himself — Populus  has  been  growing 
and  growing,  till  he  is  every  bit  as  wise  as  his 
guardians.  Talk  to  our  ragged  friend.  He  is  not 
so  polished,  perhaps,  as  a  member  of  the  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  Club;  he  has  not  been  to  Eton;  and 
never  read  HORACE  in  his  life  :  but  he  can  think  just 
as  soundly  as  the  best  of  you ;  he  can  speak  quite  as 
strongly  in  his  own  rough  way  ;  he  has  been  reading 
all  sorts  of  books  of  late  years,  and  gathered  together 
no  little  information.  He  is  as  good  a  man  as  the 
common  run  of  us ;  and  there  are  ten  million  more 
men  in  the  country  as  good  as  he, — ten  million,  for 
whom  we,  in  our  infinite  superiority,  are  acting  as 
guardians,  and  to  whom,  in  our  bounty,  we  give — 
exactly  nothing.  Put  yourself  in  their  position, 
worthy  sir.  You  and  a  hundred  others  find  your 
selves  in  some  lone  place,  where  you  set  up  a  govern 
ment.  You  take  a  chief,  as  is  natural;  he  is  the 
cheapest  order-keeper  in  the  world.  You  establish 
half-a-dozen  worthies,  whose  families  you  say  shall 
have  the  privilege  to  legislate  for  you  for  e^er ;  half- 
a-dozen  more,  who  shall  be  appointed  by  a  choice  of 
thirty  of  the  rest;  and  the  other  sixty,  who  shall 
have  no  choice,  vote,  place,  or  privilege,  at  all. 
Honourable  sir,  suppose  that  you  are  one  of  the  last 
sixty :  how  will  you  feel,  you  who  have  intelligence. 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN   HANGED.  289 

passions,  honest  pride,  as  well  as  your  neighbour; 
how  will  you  feel  towards  your  equals,  in  whose 
hands  lie  all  the  power  and  all  the  property  of  the 
community  ?  Would  you  love  and  honour  them, 
tamely  acquiesce  in  their  superiority,  see  their  privi 
leges,  and  go  yourself  disregarded  without  a  pang? 
you  are  not  a  man  if  you  would.  I  am  not  talking  of 
right  or  wrong,  or  debating  questions  of  government. 
But  ask  my  friend  there,  with  the  ragged  elbows  and 
no  shirt,  what  he  thinks?  You  have  your  party, 
Conservative  or  Whig,  as  it  may  be.  You  believe 
that  an  aristocracy  is  an  institution  necessary,  beauti 
ful,  and  virtuous.  You  are  a  gentleman,  in  other 
words,  and  stick  by  your  party. 

And  our  friend  with  the  elbows  (the  crowd  is 
thickening  hugely  all  this  time)  sticks  by  his.  Talk 
to  him  of  Whig  or  Tory,  he  grins  at  them  ;  of  vir 
tual  representation,  pish  !  He  is  a  democrat,  and 
will  stand  by  his  friends,  as  you  by  yours  ;  and  they 
are  twenty  millions,  his  friends,  of  whom  a  vast  mi 
nority  now,  a  majority  a  few  years  hence,  will  be  as 
good  as  you.  In  the  meantime  we  shall  continue 
electing,  and  debating,  and  dividing,  and  having  every 
day  new  triumphs  for  the  glorious  cause  of  Conserva 
tism,  or  the  glorious 'cause  of  Reform,  until  

#<*#** 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this  unconscionable  re 
publican  tirade — a  propos,  of  a  hanging  ?     Such  feel- 
18 


290  GOING   TO    SEE    A   MAN   HANGED. 

ings,  I  think,  must  come  across  any  man  in  a  vast 
multitude  like  this.  What  good  sense  and  intelli 
gence  have  most  of  the  people  by  whom  you  are  sur 
rounded  ;  how  much  sound  humour  does  one  hear. ban 
died  about  from  one  to  another  ?  A  great  number 
of  coarse  phrases  are  used,  that  would  make  ladies 
in  drawing  rooms  blush  ;  but  the  morals  of  the  men 
are  good  and  hearty.  A  ragamuffin  in  the  crowd  (a 
powdery  baker  in  a  white  sheep's-wool  cap)  uses  some 
indecent  expression  to  a  woman  near  ;  there  is  an  in 
stant  cry  of  shame,  which  silences  the  man,  and  a 
dozen  people  are  ready  to  give  the  woman  protection. 
The  crowd  has  grown  very  dense  by  this  time,  it  is 
about  six  o'clock,  and  there  is  great  heaving,  and 
pushing,  and  swaying  to  and  fro  ;  but  round  the  wo 
men  the  men  have  formed  a  circle,  and  keep  them  as 
much  as  possible  out  of  the  rush  and  trample.  In 
one  of  the  houses  near  us,  a  gallery  has  been  formed 
on  the  roof.  Seats  were  here  let,  and  a  number  of 
persons  of  various  degrees  were  occupying  them. 
Several  tipsy,  dissolute-looking  young  men,  of  the 
Dick  Swiveller  cast,  were  in  this  gallery.  One  was 
lolling  over  the  sunshiney  tiles,  with  a  fierce  sodden 
face,  out  of  which  came  a  pipe,  and  which  was  shaded 
by  long  matted  hair,  and  a  hat  cocked  very  much  on 
one  side.  This  gentleman  was  one  of  a  party,  which 
had  evidently  not  been  to  bed  on  Sunday  night,  but 
had  passed  it  in  some  of  those  delectable  night-houses 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN   HANGED.  291 

in  the  neighbourhood  of  Covent  Garden.  The  de 
bauch  was  not  over  yet,  and  the  women  of  the  party 
were  giggling,  drinking,  and  romping,  as  is  the  wont 
of  these  delicate  creatures  ;  sprawling  here  and  there, 
and  falling  upon  the  knees  of  one  or  other  of  the 
males.  Their  scarfs  were  off  their  shoulders,  and 
you  saw  the  sun  shining  down  upon  the  bare  white 
flesh,  and  the  shoulder-points  glittering  like  burning 
glasses.  The  people  about  us  were  very  indignant  at 
some  of  the  proceedings  of  this  debauched  crew,  and 
at  last  raised  up  such  a  yell  as  frightened  them  into 
shame,  and  they  were  more  orderly  for  the  remainder 
of  the  day.  The  windows  of  the  shops  opposite  be 
gan  to  fill  apace,  and  our  before-mentioned  friend 
with  ragged  elbows  pointed  out  a  celebrated  fashion 
able  character  who  occupied  one  of  them ;  and,  to 
our  surprise,  knew  as  much  about  him  as  the  Court 
Journal  or  the  Morning  Post.  Presently  he  enter 
tained  us  with  a  long  and  pretty  accurate  account  of 

the  history  of  Lady ,  and  indulged  in  a  judicious 

criticism  upon  her  last  work.  I  have  met  with  many 
a  country  gentleman  who  had  not  read  half  as  many 
books  as  this  honest  fellow,  this  shrewd  proletaire  in 
a  black  shirt.  The  people  about  him  took  up  and 
carried  on  the  conversation  very  knowingly,  and  were 
very  little  behind  him  in  point  of  information.  It 
was  just  as  good  a  company  as  one  meets  on  common 
occasions.  I  was  in  a  genteel  crowd  in  one  of  the 


GOIXG   TO    SEE    A    MAX   HAXGED, 

galleries  at  the  queen's  coronation  :  indeed,  in  point 
of  intelligence,  the  democrats  were  quite  equal  to  the 
aristocrats.  How  many  more  such  groups  were  there 
in  this  immense  multitude  of  nearly  forty  thousand. 
as  some  say  ?  How  many  more  such  throughout  the 
country  ?  I  never  yet,  as  I  said  before,  have  been 
in  an  English  mob.  without  the  same  feeling  for  the 
persons  who  composed  it.  and  without  wonder  at  the 
rigorous,  orderly  good  sense,  and  intelligence  of  the 
people. 

The  character  of  the  crowd  was  as  yet.  however, 
quite  festive.  Jokes  bandying  about  here  and  there, 
and  jolly  laughs  breaking  out  Some  men  were  en 
deavouring  to  climb  up  a  leaden  pipe  on  one  of  the 
houses.  The  landlord  came  out  and  endeavoured, 
with  might  and  main,  to  pull  them  down.  Many 
thousand  eyes  turned  upon  this  contest  immediately. 
All  sorts  of  voices  issued  from  the  crowd  and  uttered 
choice  expressions  of  slang.  When  one  of  the  men 
was  pulled  down  by  the  leg.  the  waves  of  this  black 
mob-ocean  laughed  innumerably :  when  one  fellow 
slipped  away,  scrambled  up  the  pipe,  and  made  good 
his  lodgement  on  the  shelf,  we  were  all  made  happy, 
and  encouraged  him  by  loud  shouts  of  admiration. 
What  is  there  so  particularly  delightful  in  the  spec 
tacle  of  a  man  clambering  up  a  gas-pipe  ?  Why  were 
we  kept  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  deep  interest  gat 
ing  upon  this  remarkable  scene  ?  Indeed  it  is  hard 


GOIXG   TO    SEE    A    MAX    HANGED.  '293 

to  say  :  a  man  does  not  know  what  a  fool  he  is  until 
he  tries  ;  or,  at  least,  what  mean  follies  will  amuse 
him.  The  other  day  I  went  to  Astley's  and  saw 
clown  come  in  with  a  foolscap  and  pinafore,  and  six 
small  boys  who  represented  his  school-fellows.  To 
them  enters  schoolmaster  :  horses  clown,  and  flogs 
him  hugely  on  the  back  part  of  his  pinafore.  I  never 
read  anything  in  Swift,  Box,  Rabelais,  Fielding, 
Paul  de  Kock  which  delighted  me  so  much  as  this 
"signtTand  caused  me  to  laugh  so  profoundly.  And 
why  ?  What  is  there  so  ridiculous  in  the  sight  of 
one  miserably  rouged  man  beating  another  on  the 
l:.-V:i  •  TV",  us  when  thfl  :\:::  lies,  :::  ::::$  :uvi  the 
before-mentioned  episode  of  the  gas-pipe  ?  Vast,  in 
deed,  are  the  capacities  and  ingenuities  of  the  human 
soul  that  can  find,  in  incidents  so  wonderfully  small, 
means  of  contemplation  and  amusement. 

Really  the  time  passed  away  with  extraordinary 
quickness,  A  thousand  things  of  the  sort  related 
here  came  to  amuse  us.  First,  the  workmen  knock 
ing  and  hammering  at  the  scaffold,  mysterious 
tering  of  blows  was  heard  within  it,  and  a  ladder 
painted  black  was  carried  round,  and  into  the  inte 
rior  of  the  edifice  by  a  small  side-door.  We  all 
looked  at  this  little  ladder  and  at  each  other — things 
began  to  be  very  interesting.  Soon  came  a  squad  of 
policemen  ;  stalwart,  rosy -looking  men.  saying  much 
for  city-feeding;  well-dressed,  well-limbed,  and  of  ad- 


294  GOING   TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

mirable  good  humour.  They  paced  about  the  open 
space  between  the  prison  and  the  barriers  which  kept 
in  the  crowd  from  the  scaffold.  The  front  line,  as 
far  as  I  could  see,  was  chiefly  occupied  by  black 
guards  and  boys — professional  persons,  no  doubt, 
who  saluted  the  policemen  on  their  appearance  with 
a  volley  of  jokes  and  ribaldry.  As  far  as  I  could 
judge  from  faces,  there  were  more  blackguards  of 
sixteen  and  seventeen,  than  of  any  maturer  age  ; 
stunted,  sallow,  ill-grown  lads,  in  rugged  fustian, 
scowling  about.  There  were  a  considerable  number 
of  girls,  too,  of  the  same  age ;  one  that  Cruikshank 
and  Boz  might  have  taken  as  a  study  for  Nancy. 
The  girl  was  a  young  thief's  mistress  evidently ;  if 
attacked,  ready  to  reply  without  a  particle  of  modes 
ty  ;  could  give  as  good  ribaldry  as  she  got ;  made  no 
secret  (and  there  were  several  inquiries)  as  to  her 
profession  and  means  of  livelihood.  But  with  all 
this,  there  was  something  good  about  the  girl ;  a  sort 
of  devil-may-care  candour  and  simplicity  that  one 
could  not  fail  to  see.  Her  answers  to  some  of  the 
coarse  questions  put  to  her,  were  very  ready  and 
good-humoured.  She  had  a  friend  with  her  of  the 
same  age  and  class,  of  whom  she  seemed  to  be  very 
fond,  and  who  looked  up  to  her  for  protection.  Both 
of  these  women  had  beautiful  eyes.  Devil-may-care's 
were  extraordinarily  bright  and  blue,  an  admirably 
fair  complexion,  and  a  large  red  mouth  full  of  white 


GOING   TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  295 

teeth.  Au  reste,  ugly,  stunted,  thick-limbed,  and  by 
no  means  a  beauty.  Her  friend  could  not  be  more 
than  fifteen.  They  were  not  in  rags,  but  had  greasy 
cotton  shawls,  and  old,  faded,  rag-shop  bonnets.  I 
was  curious  to  look  at  them,  having,  in  late  fashion 
able  novels,  read  many  accounts  of  such  personages. 
Bah  !  what  figments  these  novelists  tell  us  !  Boz, 
who  knows  life  well,  knows  that  his  Miss  Nancy  is 
the  most  unreal  fantastical  personage  possible ;  no 
more  like  a  thief's  mistress,  than  one  of  G-essner's 
shepherdesses  resembles  a  real  country  wench.  He 
dare  not  tell  the  truth  concerning  such  young  ladies. 
They  have,  no  doubt,  virtues  like  other  human  crea 
tures  ;  nay,  their  position  engenders  virtues  that  are 
not  called  into  exercise  among  other  women.  But  on 
these  an  honest  painter  of  human  nature  has  no  right 
to  dwell  j  not  being  able  to  paint  the  whole  portrait, 
he  has  no  right  to  present  one  or  two  favourable 
points  as  characterising  the  whole  ;  and  therefore, 
in  fact,  had  better  leave  the  picture  alone  altogether. 
The  new  French  literature  is  essentially  false  and 
worthless  from  this  very  error — the  writers  giving  us 
favourable  pictures  of  monsters  (and,  to  say  nothing 
of  decency  or  morality),  pictures  quite  untrue  to 
nature. 

But  yonder,  glittering  through  the  crowd  in  New 
gate  Street — see  the  Sheriffs'  carriages  are  slowly 
making  their  way.  We  have  been  here  three  hours  ! 


296  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

Is  it  possible  that  they  can  have  passed  so  soon? 
Close  to  the  barriers  where  we  are,  the  mob  has  be 
come  so  dense  that  it  is  with  difficulty  a  man  can 
keep  his  feet.  Each  man,  however,  is  very  careful 
in  protecting  the  women,  and  all  are  full  of  jokes 
and  good-humour.  The  windows  of  the  shops  op 
posite  are  now  pretty  nearly  filled  by  the  persons  who 
hired  them.  Many  young  dandies  are  there  with 
mustachios  and  cigars ;  some  quiet,  fat,  family  parties, 
of  simple  honest  tradesmen  and  their  wives,  as  we 
fancy,  who  are  looking  on  with  the  greatest  imagin 
able  calmness,  and  sipping  their  tea.  Yonder  is  the 

sham  Lord  W ,  who  is  flinging  various  articles 

among  the  crowd ;  one  of  his  companions,  a  tall  burly 
man,  with  large  mustachios,  has  provided  himself 
with  a  squirt,  and  is  aspersing  the  mob  with  brandy 
and  water.  Honest  gentleman !  high-bred  aristocrat ! 
genuine  lover  of  humour  and  wit !  I  would  walk  some 
miles  to  see  thee  on  the  tread-mill,  thee  and  thy  Mo 
hawk  crew ! 

We  tried  to  get  up  a  hiss  against  these  ruffians, 
but  only  had  a  trifling  success  ;  the  crowd  did  not 
seem  to  think  their  offence  very  heinous ;  and  our 
friend,  the  philosopher  in  the  ragged  elbows,  who  had 
remained  near  us  all  the  time,  was  not  inspired  with 
any  such  savage  disgust  at  the  proceedings  of  certain 
notorious  young  gentlemen,  as  I  must  confess  fills  my 
own  particular  bosom.  He  only  said,  "  So  and  so  is 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  297 

a  lord,  and  they'll  let  him  off,"  and  then  discoursed 
about  Lord  Ferrers  being  hanged.  The  philosopher 
knew  the  history  pretty  well,  and  so  did  most  of  the 
little  knot  of  persons  about  him,  and  it  must  be  a 
gratifying  thing  for  young  gentlemen  to  find  that 
their  actions  are  made  the  subject  of  this  kind  of 
conversation. 

Scarcely  a  word  had  been  said  about  Courvoisier 
all  this  time.  We  were  all,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  in 
just  such  a  frame  of  mind  as  men  are  in  when  they  are 
squeezing  at  the  pit-door  of  a  play,  or  pushing  for  a 
review  or  a  lord  mayor's  show.  We  asked  most  of 
the  men  who  were  near  us,  whether  they  had  seen 
many  executions  ?  most  of  them  had,  the  philosopher 
especially ;  whether  the  sight  of  them  did  any  good  ? 
"  For  the  matter  of  that,  no  ;  people  did  not  care 
about  them  at  all ;  nobody  ever  thought  of  it  after  a 
bit."  A  countryman,  who  had  left  his  drove  in 
Srnithfield,  said  the  same  thing ;  he  had  seen  a  man 
hanged  at  York,  and  spoke  of  the  ceremony  with 
perfect  good  sense,  and  in  a  quiet,  sagacious  way. 

J.  S ,  the  famous  wit,  now  dead,  had,  I  recol 
lect,  a  good  story  upon  the  subject  of  executing,  and 
of  the  terror  which  the  punishment  inspires.  After 
Thistlewood  and  his  companions  were  hanged,  their 
heads  were  taken  off,  according  to  the  sentence  ;  and 
the  executioner,  as  he  severed  each,  held  it  up  to  the 

crowd  in  the  proper  orthodox  way,  saying,  "  Here  is 
13* 


298  GOING   TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

the  head  of  a  traitor ! "  At  the  sight  of  the  first 
ghastly  head  the  people  were  struck  with  terror,  and 
a  general  expression  of  disgust  and  fear  broke  from 
them.  The  second  head  was  looked  at  also  with 
much  interest,  but  the  excitement  regarding  the  third 
head  diminished.  When  the  executioner  had  come 
to  the  last  of  the  heads,  he  lifted  it  up,  but,  by  some 
clumsiness,  allowed  it  to  drop.  At  this  the  crowd 
yelled  out,  "Ah,  Butter-fingers!" — the  excitement 
had  passed  entirely  away.  The  punishment  had 
grown  to  be  a  joke — Butter-fingers  was  the  word — a 
pretty  commentary,  indeed,  upon  the  august  nature 
of  public  executions,  and  the  awful  majesty  of  the  law. 
It  was  past  seven  now ;  the  quarters  rang,  and 
passed  away ;  the  crowd  began  to  grow  very  eager 
and  more  quiet,  and  we  turned  back  every  now  and 
then  and  looked  at  St.  Sepulchre's  clock.  Half  an 
hour,  twenty-five  minutes.  What  is  he  doing  now  ? 
He  has  his  irons  off  by  this  time.  A  quarter  :  he's 
in  the  press-room  now,  no  doubt.  Now  at  last  we 
had  come  to  think  about  the  man  we  were  going  to 
see  hanged.  How  slowly  the  clock  crept  over  the 
last  quarter  !  Those  who  were  able  to  turn  round 
and  see  (for  the  crowd  was  now  extraordinarily  dense), 
chronicled  the  time  eight  minutes,  five  minutes  ;  at 
last  —  ding,  dong,  dong,  dong !  —  the  bell  is  tolling 
the  chimes  of  eight* 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  299 

Between  the  writing  of  this  line  and  the  last,  the 
pen  has  been  put  down,  as  the  reader  may  suppose, 
and  the  person  who  is  addressing  him  gone  through 
a  pause  of  no  very  pleasant  thoughts  and  recollec 
tions.  The  whole  of  the  sickening,  ghastly,  wicked 
scene  passes  before  the  eyes  again  ;  and,  indeed,  it  is 
an  awful  one  to  see,  and  very  hard  and  painful  to 
describe. 

As  the  clock  began  to  strike,  an  immense  sway 
and  movement  swept  over  the  whole  of  that  vast 
dense  crowd.  They  were  all  uncovered  directly,  and 
a  great  murmur  arose,  more  awful,  bizarre,  and  un- 
describable  than  any  sound  I  had  ever  before  heard. 
Women  and  children  began  to  shriek  horridly.  I 
don't  know  whether  it  was  the  bell  I  heard ;  but  a 
dreadful,  quick,  feverish  kind  of  jangling  noise, 
mingled  with  the  noise  of  the  people,  and  lasted  for 
about  two  minutes.  The  scaffold  stood  before  us, 
tenantless  and  black ;  the  black  chain  was  hanging 
down  ready  from  the  beam.  Nobody  came.  "  He 
has  been  respited,"  some  one  said;  another  said,  "He 
has  killed  himself  in  prison." 

"  Just  then,  from  under  the  black  prison-door,  a 
pale,  quiet  head  peered  out.  It  was  shockingly 
bright  and  distinct ;  it  rose  up  directly,  and  a  man 
in  black  appeared  on  the  scaffold,  and  was  silently 
followed  by  about  four  more  dark  figures.  The  first 
was  a  tall,  grave  man :  we  all  knew  who  the  second 


300  GOING   TO    SEE    A    MAN   HANGED. 

man  was.     "  That's  he — that's  he!n  you  heard  the 
people  say,  as  the  devoted  man  came  up. 

I  have  seen  a  cast  of  the  head  since,  but,  indeed, 
should  never  have  known  it.  Courvoisier  bore  his 
punishment  like  a  man,  and  walked  very  firmly.  He 
was  dressed  in  a  new  black  suit,  as  it  seemed ;  his 
shirt  was  open.  His  arms  were  tied  in  front  of  him. 
He  opened  his  hands  in  a  helpless  kind  of  way,  and 
clasped  them  once  or  twice  together.  He  turned  his 
head  here  and  there,  and  looked  about  him  for  an 
instant  with  a  wild,  imploring  look.  His  mouth  was 
contracted  into  a  sort  of  pitiful  smile.  He  went  and 
placed  himself  at  once  under  the  beam,  with  his  face 
towards  St.  Sepulchre's.  The  tall,  grave  man  in 
black  twisted  him  round  swiftly  in  the  other  direction, 
and,  drawing  from  his  pocket  a  nightcap,  pulled  it 
tight  over  the  patient's  head  and  face.  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  say  that  I  could  look  no  more,  but  shut 
my  eyes  as  the  last  dreadful  act  was  going  on,  which 
sent  this  wretched,  guilty  soul  into  the  presence  of 
God. 

If  a  public  execution  is  beneficial — and  beneficial 
it  is,  no  doubt,  or  else  the  wise  laws  would  not  en 
courage  forty  thousand  people  to  witness  it — the  next 
useful  thing  must  be  a  full  description  of  such  a  cere 
mony,  and  all  its  entourages,  and  to  this  end  the 
above  pages  are  offered  to  the  reader.  How  does  an 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  301 

individual  man  feel  under  it  ?  In  what  way  does  he 
observe  it, — how  does  he  view  all  the  phenomena 
connected  with  it, — what  induces  him,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  go  and  see  it, — and  how  is  he  moved  by 
it  afterwards  ?  The  writer  has  discarded  the  maga 
zine  "We"  altogether,  and  spoken  face  to  face  with 
the  reader,  recording  every  one  of  the  impressions 
felt  by  him  as  honestly  as  he  could. 

I  must  confess,  then  (for  "I"  is  the  shortest  word, 
and  the  best  in  this  case),  that  the  sight  has  left  on 
my  mind  an  extraordinary  feeling  of  terror  and 
shame.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  been  abetting 
an  act  of  frightful  wickedness  and  violence,  performed 
by  a  set  of  men  against  one  of  their  fellows ;  and 
I  pray  God  that  it  may  soon  be  out  of  the  power  of 
any  man  in  England  to  witness  such  a  hideous  and 
degrading  sight.  Forty  thousand  persons  (say  the 
sheriffs),  of  all  ranks  and  degrees, — mechanics,  gen 
tlemen,  pickpockets,  members  of  both  houses  of  par 
liament,  street- walkers,  newspaper-writers,  gather 
together  before  Newgate  at  a  very  early  hour ;  the 
most  part  of  them  give  up  their  natural  quiet  night's 
rest,  in  order  to  partake  of  this  hideous  debauchery, 
which  is  more  exciting  than  sleep,  or  than  wine,  or  the 
last  new  ballet,  or  any  other  amusement  they  can 
have.  Pickpocket  and  peer  each  is  tickled  by  the 
sight  alike,  and  has.  that  hidden  lust  after  blood  which 
influences  our  race, — government,  a  Christian  govern- 


302  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

ment,  gives  us  a  feast  every  now  and  then  :  it  agrees, 
that  is  to  say,  a  majority  in  the  two  Houses  agrees, 
that  for  certain  crimes  it  is  necessary  that  a  man 
should  be  hanged  by  the  neck.  Government  commits 
the  criminal's  soul  to  the  mercy  of  God,  stating  that 
here  on  earth  he  is  to  look  for  no  mercy ;  keeps  him 
for  a  fortnight  to  prepare,  provides  him  with  a  cler 
gyman  to  settle  his  religious  matters  (if  there  be 
time  enough,  but  government  can't  wait) ;  and  on  a 

'Monday  morning,  the  bell  tolling,  the  clergyman 
reading  out  the  word  of  God,  "  I  am  the  resurrection 

*  and  the  life,"  "  The  Lord  giveth,  and  the  Lord  taketh 
away," — on  a  Monday  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  this 
man  is  placed  under  a  beam,  with  a  rope  connecting 
it  and  him  ;  a  plank  disappears  from  under  him,  and 
those  who  have  paid  for  good  places  may  see  the 
hands  of  the  government  agent,  Jack  Ketch,  coming 
up  from  his  black  hole,  and  seizing  the  prisoner's 
legs,  and  pulling  them,  until  he  is  quite  dead — 
strangled. 

Many  persons,  and  well-informed  newspapers, 
say  that  it  is  mawkish  sentiment  to  talk  in  this  way, 
morbid  humanity,  cheap  philanthropy,  that  any  man 
can  get  up  and  preach  about.  There  is  the  Observer, 
for  instance,  a  paper  conspicuous  for  the  tremendous 
sarcasm  which  distinguishes  its  articles,  and  which 
falls  cruelly  foul  of  the  Morning  Herald.  "  COUR- 
VOISIER  is  dead,"  says  the  Observer ;  he  "  died  as  he 


GOING  TO  SEE  A  MAN  HANGED.        303 

had  lived — a  villain  ;  a  lie  was  in  his  mouth.  Peace 
be  to  his  ashes.  We  war  not  with  the  dead."  What 
a  magnanimous  Observer  I  From  this,  Observer  turns 
to  the  Herald,  and  says, "  Fiat  justitia  mat  calum." 
So  much  for  the  Herald. 

We  quote  from  memory,  and  the  quotation  from 
the  Observer  possibly  is, — De  mdrtuis  nil  nisi  bo- 
num ;  or,  Omne  ignotum  pro  magnifico ;  or,  Sero 
nunquam  est  ad  bonos  mores  via;  or,  Ingenuas 
didicisse  fideliter  artes  emollit  mores  ncc  sinit  esse 
feros  ;  all  of  which  pithy  Roman  apophthegms  would 
apply  just  as  well. 

"  Peace  be  to  his  ashes.  He  died  a  villain." 
This  is  both  benevolence  and  reason.  Did  he  die  a 
villain?  The  Observer  does  not  want  to  destroy 
him  body  and  soul,  evidently,  from  that  pious  wish 
that  his  ashes  should  be  at  peace.  Is  the  next  Mon 
day  but  one  after  the  sentence  the  time  necessary  for 
a  villain  to  repent  in  ?  May  a  man  not  require  more 
leisure — a  week  more — six  months  more — before  he 
has  been  able  to  make  his  repentance  sure  before 
Him  who  died  for  us  all  ? — for  all,  be  it  remembered, 
— not  alone  for  the  judge  and  jury,  or  for  the  sheriffs, 
or  for  the  executioner  who  is  pulling  down  the  legs 
of  the  prisoner, — but  for  him  too.  murderer  and  crimi 
nal  as  he  is,  whom  we  are  killing  for  his  crime.  Do 
we  want  to  kill  him  body  and  soul  ?  Heaven  for 
bid  !  My  lord  in  the  black  cap  specially  prays,  that 


304  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED. 

Heaven  may  have  mercy  on  him ;  but  he  must  be 
ready  by  Monday  morning. 

Look  at  the  documents  which  came  from  the 
prison  of  this  unhappy  COURVOISIER  during  the  few 
days  which  passed  between  his  trial  and  execution. 
Were  ever  letters  more  painful  to  read?  At  first, 
his  statements  are  false,  contradictory,  lying.  He 
has  not  repented  then.  His  last  declaration  seems 
to  be  honest,  as  far  as  the  relation  of  the  crime  goes. 
But  read  the  rest  of  his  statement, — the  account  of 
his  personal  history,  and  the  crimes  which  he  com 
mitted  in  his  young  days, — then,  "how  the  evil 
thought  came  to  him  to  put  his  hand  to  the  work," — 
it  is  evidently  the  writing  of  a  mad,  distracted  man. 
The  horrid  gallows  is  perpetually  before  him ;  he  is 
wild  with  dread  and  remorse.  Clergymen  are  with 
him  ceaselessly ;  religious  tracts  are  forced  into  his 
hands ;  night  and  day  they  ply  him  with  the  heinous- 
ness  of  his  crime,  and  exhortations  to  repentance. 
Read  through  that  last  paper  of  his ;  by  Heaven,  it 
is  pitiful  to  read  it.  See  the  Scripture  phrases 
brought  in  now  and  anon ;  the  peculiar  terms  of 
tract-phraseology  (I  do  not  wish  to  speak  of  these 
often  meritorious  publications  with  disrespect) ;  one 
knows  too  well  how  such  language  is  learned, — imi 
tated  from  the  priest  at  the  bedside,  eagerly  seized 
and  appropriated,  and  confounded  by  the  poor 
prisoner. 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED.  305 

But  murder  is  such  a  monstrous  crime  (this  is  the 
great  argument), — when  a  man  has  killed  another,  it 
is  natural  that  he  should  be  killed.  Away  with  your 
foolish  sentimentalists  who  say  no — it  is  natural. 
That  is  the  word,  and  a  fine  philosophical  opinion  it 
is — philosophical  and  Christian.  Kill  a  man,  and 
you  must  be  killed  in  turn ;  that  is  the  unavoidable 
sequitur.  You  may  talk  to  a  man  for  a  year  upon 
the  subject,  and  he  will  always  reply  to  you,  It  is 
natural,  and  therefore  it  must  be  done.  Blood  de 
mands  blood. 

Does  it  ?  The  system  of  compensations  might  be 
carried  on  ad  infmitum, — an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth 
for  a  tooth,  as  by  the  old  Mosaic  law.  But  (putting 
the  fact  out  of  the  question,  that  we  have  had  this 
statute  repealed  by  the  Highest  Authority),  why,  be 
cause  you  lose  your  eye,  is  that  of  your  opponent's  to 
be  extracted  likewise  ?  Where  is  the  reason  for  the 
practice  ?  And  yet  it  is  just  as  natural  as  the  death 
dictum,  founded  precisely  upon  the  same  show  of 
sense.  Knowing,  however,  that  revenge  is  not  only 
evil,  but  useless,  we  have  given  it  up  on  all  minor 
points.  Only  to  the  last  we  stick  firm,  contrary 
though  it  be  to  reason  and  to  Christian  law. 

There  is  some  talk,  too,  of  the  terror  which  the 
sight  of  this  spectacle  inspires,  and  of  this  we  have 
endeavoured  to  give  as  good  a  notion  as  we  can  in  the 
above  pages.  I  fully  confess  that  I  came  away  down 


306  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN   HANGED. 

Snow  Hill  that  morning  with  a  disgust  for  murder,  but 
it  was  for  the  murder  I  saw  done.  As  we  made  our 
way  through  the  immense  crowd,  we  came  upon  two 
little  girls  of  eleven  and  twelve  years  :  one  of  them 
was  crying  bitterly,  and  begged,  for  Heaven's  sake, 
that  some  one  would  lead  her  from  that  horrid  place. 
This  was  done,  and  the  children  were  carried  into  a 
place  of  safety.  We  asked  the  elder  girl — a  very 
pretty  one — what  brought  her  into  such  a  neighbour 
hood?  The  child  grinned  knowingly,  and  said, 
"  We've  koom  to  see  the  mon  hanged ! "  Tender 
law,  that  brings  out  babes  upon  such  errands,  and 
provides  them  with  such  gratifying  moral  spec- 
\tacles ! 

This  is  the  20th  of  July,  and  I  may  be  permitted 
for  my  part  to  declare,  that,  for  the  last  fourteen 
days,  so  salutary  has  the  impression  of  the  butchery 
been  upon  me,  I  have  had  the  man's  face  continually 
before  my  eyes ;  that  1  can  see  Mr.  Ketch  at  this 
moment,  with  an  easy  air,  taking  the  rope  from  his 
pocket ;  that  I  feel  myself  ashamed  and  degraded  at 
the  brutal  curiosity  which  took  me  to  that  brutal 
sight ;  and  that  I  pray  to  Almighty  God  to  cause 
this  disgraceful  sin  to  pass  from  among  us,  and  to 
cleanse  our  land  of  blood. 


THEEN, 

. 


AD  VE  RTISEMENT8. 


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<' 


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'  '"^  ^  O 

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